The Silver Mage's Captive
by Canimal
Summary: Harry is dead and Hermione is alone. On the run from Death Eaters, she is captured one night by the last person she ever expected to be in a position to keep her safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** ** _:_** Unfortunately, I own nothing and can claim nothing from the Harry Potter Universe. All characters still belong to JK Rowling.

 **IMPORTANT – PLEASE READ**

 **It is my personal choice to not include trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters for a few reasons. Published books do not have them and I believe that they take away from the spontaneity and surprise of the story. (You read major character death and you spend the entire chapter or story wondering who it is and I feel it's distracting.) That being said, please understand that this story will have some dark elements. This is a story written for Mature audiences only. If you are not an adult, please do not continue.**

 **This story includes the following triggers so please be aware: death, murder, violence, attempted non-con and sexual situations.**

* * *

Chapter One

Two hundred and seventy-one days.

Two hundred and seventy-one days of paralyzing, gut-wrenching fear. Constant questioning of every decision she had ever made. Unending trepidation. She couldn't escape when she was asleep. Even her dreams were haunted. When she closed her eyes for even a moment, she was transported back to her beloved school.

Screams echoing around her. The smell of fire and sheer terror pervading her nostrils. All she could see is Harry… her best friend lying dead in the Great Hall. Triumphant cheers and horrified shrieks were all around her. It was almost as if time stood still for hours as she processed what she was seeing in the front of her. Maniacal laughter, the kind she hoped to never hear again, broke the trance. In one swift movement she was wrapped up in a giant hand and moving out of the castle, out of the grounds and into the forest before her mind could register the cacophony of the resuming battle behind her.

One part of her would be eternally grateful for the kindness Hagrid's giant little brother showed her in the midst of the chaos. The rest of her wished he'd left her to fight and die with the rest of her loved ones and comrades. Grawp set her down in the darkest part of the Forbidden Forest before running back into the fray, screaming "Hagger! Hagger!" She knew that Hagrid's instructions to his brother to save her were likely the last he was able to give. She couldn't imagine Hagrid surviving after the battle picked back up. He was too big of a target. Too much of a Dumbledore and Potter man to be allowed to live in the new regime.

Somehow, Hermione Granger had been able to survive on her own for two hundred and seventy-one brutal days. Moments after coming to the realization that she was truly alone and the Battle for Hogwarts was truly lost, she knew she had to get as far away as she could as quickly as she could. She had been a target for the Ministry and the Death Eaters from Day One. She knew she could use the ensuing bedlam to put a great amount of distance between herself and the crumbling of the wizarding world she had known and loved. Thankfully, she had kept hold of her beaded bag during all of the scrambling and dueling. Everything she needed was tucked away in her pocket.

She remembered a picturesque spot in the coastal village of Crackington Haven. Her parents took her there one summer where they spent an idyllic weekend tramping over the countryside and enjoying the beauty of Cornwall. It was the first place she thought of and her heart ached for her parents. They had been out of her life for less than a year, but it already felt like a lifetime had passed. She summoned the strength to set up the necessary wards and enchantments to keep her position secret in a beautiful spot on the high cliffs. Only after the tent was fully assembled and her protections were double and triple checked did she give herself permission to fall apart.

And fall apart she did… spectacularly. She cried for her friends. She cried for her parents. She cried for herself. She cried for the future. She cried out of fear. She cried out of anger. She cried for Harry, sweet, courageous Harry. She cried until her tear ducts burned and nothing further came out. She cried until her body was too exhausted to carry on. She cried herself into a sleep that lasted for days.

When Hermione finally woke up, she wasn't sure what day it was. There wasn't really a way for her to find out without sneaking down into the village to find a newspaper, but she knew that wasn't a good idea. She had already lingered in the same place for far too long. It was dangerous. Hermione packed up the tent and the few belongings she removed from her bag before collapsing into the bunk however many days earlier. With a quick spell she removed all trace of magic still lingering in the air. She focused on another part of the country she once travelled to with her parents and disapparated.

And that is how she, despite all odds against her, managed to survive completely on her own for so long. Every couple of days she moved to another desolate part of her beautiful country and hid. There had been some close calls. One night she could hear a gang of Snatchers just a few yards away. It was encouraging to find out that her protection spells were effective, but that evening huddled in fear at the mouth of her tent was the longest night of her life. Another time she almost came face to face with a couple of Death Eaters walking through a village she had snuck into for food. Thankfully a large group of shoppers crossed her path the right moment and she was able to blend in the crowd. They never saw her.

Avoiding the wizarding world as much as humanly possible meant that Hermione had received very little news of what was happening now that the war was lost. Slipping into the Muggle world, she had been able to pick up on some strange news happening around the country, but nothing had revealed the fates of those closest to her. She had even taken to speaking out loud to Ron in hopes that he would be able to find her with the Deluminator that Dumbledore left him in his will. She desperately hoped that Ron had lost the magical gadget because the alternative was too much for her to bear. She hadn't seen or heard from a friend since the battle. For all she knew everyone in the Order and Dumbledore's Army was dead. She couldn't bear to dwell too much on that possibility.

Hermione found herself shivering inside her tent that cold January evening wishing she was just about anywhere else in the world. She had been able to move about the country without being caught, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she slipped up again. Maybe leaving the country and heading somewhere warmer was what she needed. As she pulled the blankets on her cot around her tighter to banish as much of the cool Scottish air as she could, she found herself imagining what Australia must be like that time of year. _Probably bloody wonderful and warm_ , she thought. She was regretting setting up camp just outside of the city of Inverness. It was freezing and because of the large population nearby, she was hesitant to use magic to keep warm. What wouldn't she have given at that moment for a friend to share their body warmth with?

She knew she didn't have enough blankets and could very well freeze to death if she stayed put. What a terribly ignoble way to go after all she had already been through. Hermione sat up from the bed and pulled the beaded bag out of her pocket. She pulled out the even smaller bag that contained the entirety of her life savings, much dwindled after almost two years of living rough. It wasn't going to last much longer at this rate, but she knew she needed to splurge a little on herself for a hot meal and a pint or two. Maybe a local would even take pity on her and pick up her tab.

She gathered everything up and began the arduous task of disassembling the tent. With repetition the act had gotten easier, but it was difficult to complete by herself. She had taken Ron and Harry for granted before. How she missed them!

Once the tent was packed up again inside her bag and the bag stowed away again in an inside pocket of her shirt, Hermione began to slowly take down the protections around the camp and cleanse the area of any trace of magical power. That part always made her nervous. She was never more vulnerable than when she was removing the enchantments. It would only take one person being there at the wrong time to muck it all up for her. Thankfully it seemed everyone else was snugged up inside their homes. She was alone.

The walk in to the outskirts of Inverness was not entirely private that evening, but she knew well enough how to keep her head down and how to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It was a skill she learned in school that she had often forgotten as she grew older. She was largely ignored, but to be safe, she wrapped her scarf firmly around her face. Her hair was fastened in a tight braid swinging down the middle of her back. It was her most recognizable feature so she kept it bound to attract less notice.

She was pleased to see a warm, lively pub not far from the edge of town. The lights beckoned to her to get out of the cold. She was grateful there hadn't been any snow yet. Being cold _and_ wet was utterly unbearable. A group of young men were ahead of her at the door. The last held the door open for her with a wink. Any ordinary night and any ordinary girl, she would've joined him as his warm smile invited her to. There was an empty place at the end of the bar near a roaring fireplace. She rushed to it before he had a chance to speak to her.

It wasn't much longer before Hermione had a steaming bowl of delicious soup in front of her and the best tasting pint of dark beer in her hand. She could almost feel her toes again. That was the warmest she had been in days. The crowd of people in the small area ordinarily would've made her feel claustrophobic and the air stuffy, but she relished in the crush. Even if they were all strangers and none of them knew she was on the run for her life, she couldn't get enough of the simple human interaction that she had taken for granted her entire life.

"Looks like you're a bit low on that one. Can I get you another?"

The man from the front door seated himself on the vacant stool next to her only moments after the previous occupant rose. He was charming and she loved his cocky, but sweet grin, but fear ran through Hermione's veins when he addressed her. She didn't want to be noticed. She wanted to fade into the background and be eternally overlooked. Why couldn't he bother the group of girls on the other side of the fireplace who seemed so desperate for his attention?

"No, thank you," she replied as politely as she could. "I was just about to leave actually."

"No, you can't leave so early. The night's just getting started."

Hermione attacked her remaining soup with a relish that even Ron would be proud of. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible, but couldn't afford to leave food behind. This had been the best meal she's had in months. It would be a sin to waste.

"I can't let the prettiest girl in here leave without me at least trying to find out her name," Mr. Charming continued.

Despite her fear, Hermione found herself smiling at the compliment. She hadn't heard a kind word from anyone in months.

"Emma," she lied.

"Pleasure, Emma. My name's Ryan and I will take it as an insult if you don't let me buy you another."

She couldn't argue with him. Making a big scene and running out of the pub like a madwoman would only draw more unwanted attention to her. When the bartender handed her another full glass she began to drink it as fast as she could without seeming rude. Ryan didn't seem to be bothered by her short, one word answers to all his inquiries. He was a gregarious type who didn't really need another to continue a conversation. After several minutes, Hermione was annoyed and wanted to crawl back into her freezing bed alone. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave her alone either.

"I've never seen you around before, Emma," Ryan's voice began to carry. "Do you go to university here?"

Hermione felt a tightening in her stomach. Her companion was quickly turning from Mr. Charming to Mr. Drunkenly Obnoxious. They were generating stares from patrons all over the room.

"Thank you for the drink, Ryan," she said, dropping enough money in front of the bartender to pay for her meal. "But I really must be going."

Ryan caught her around the waist before she could rush past him. He pulled her to him, reminding her a little too much of Cormac McLaggen and sixth year. The stares only increased.

"Please, Ryan, I have to go." Her voice croaked with fear. There were too many people and she was too recognizable. She'd made a grave error coming out into public.

"Stay for just one more," Ryan begged, tightening his grip.

The door to the pub opened and Hermione's eyes went straight over Ryan's shoulder to view the newcomers. Two tall, dangerous looking men began surveying the room as they unwrapped their scarves from around their faces. Hermione gulped, thankful that Ryan stopped her from leaving when she did. Albert Runcorn and Antonin Dolohov were in the same pub. She would never forget either of their faces as long as she lived. Ryan's broad shoulders kept her partially hidden from either of their gazes. It was only a matter of time though. They weren't in for a quick bite and a pint. They were searching for someone.

"Shit, Ryan," Hermione whispered to the young man still holding her in his grasp. "My husband just walked in. He mustn't know I'm here."

Ryan turned around to view the two new patrons. Dolohov and Runcorn were facing away from him and missed his jerk in their direction.

"Which one's your husband?" he asked, mercifully lowering his own voice to a whisper first.

"The one in the black leather coat," she answered. Runcorn was the least objectionable of the two after all. At least ten years younger than the other wizard, he also lacked the insanity so present in Dolohov's eyes after more than a decade locked up in Azkaban with the dementors. If he hadn't always been so keen to imprison or execute her, Hermione might've even admitted that the Muggle-Born Registration Commission wizard was handsome.

"Looks like an asshole."

"Oh, he is! Very jealous too. I must get out of here before he sees me."

Ryan didn't say another word. Just grabbed Hermione to his side and dragged her behind the bar. The bartender gave her a sympathetic look and never said a word about the two of them crouching on the floor under the taps. Jealous spouses must be part and parcel of his chosen profession.

"Excuse me, sirs," the bartender drawled. "Can I get you something?"

Dolohow and Runcorn approached the bar, seemingly unaware they were only inches from Harry Potter's best friend. Dolohov sneered at the man. Runcorn pulled a photograph from the inside of his black leather coat and held it up to the bartender.

"We are looking for this woman," Runcorn announced. "Have you seen her?"

When the man cut his eyes down to the floor where Hermione was hiding for a split second, her fears were confirmed. No doubt in her mind that she was the subject of the photograph in Runcorn's hand.

"She looks familiar," the bartender responded, dropping his eyes back to the clean glass he was drying. "We get lots of young ladies from the university in here."

"Has she been in here recently?"

Hermione held her breath certain that Runcorn could hear her heart beating from her hiding place. She was sure she was going to be discovered at any moment.

"Might've been in here before," the man behind the bar continued. "Hard to say really. Like I said earlier, we get lots of girls from the university in."

"Perhaps you could look a little closer," suggested Dolohov, not even trying to hide the frustration in his voice.

Hermione silently begged the man to keep his eyes down on the glass. She was certain at least one of the wizards on the other side of the bar had some experience with legilimency. All it would take was a few seconds in the unsuspecting Muggle's mind to reveal her position on the floor.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?" he asked keeping his eyes down on the bar top. "You her family?"

"It's imperative that we find her," added Runcorn. "She _is_ in danger. My associate and I are here to make sure she gets home safely."

Hermione almost snorted aloud at the false assurance in Albert Runcorn's statement. All he cared about was getting her in front of a Ministry tribunal at best or Lord Voldemort at worst.

"I'll keep an eye out for her. You have a number I can ring?"

Runcorn handed him a white business card.

"Ring that number if you see anyone come in here who looks like her."

Runcorn and Dolohov made one more sweep around the room scanning each face. Frustrated at not finding what they were looking for, the two wizards stormed outside in a fury. Hermione sighed in relief. She didn't know how they knew she'd been there, but she had never been more thankful for complete strangers. Ryan helped her to her feet and she saw the benevolent bartender rip Runcorn's card in half and then quarters. The pieces fluttered to the floor.

"I think you should get out of here as soon as possible, miss."

The bartender took the money she left for her meal and charitably placed it back in her hand. She could've cried from his generosity and kindness if she still wasn't terrified.

"I don't like the look of your husband," he continued. "Ry, take the lady out the back door. With any luck those men may still be out front."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much for your kindness." She did manage a few trickles of tears at that moment.

"Get you somewhere safe, please… and try to be more careful picking out your next husband, my dear."

Ryan led Hermione through the tiny kitchen behind the bar. A door to the alley promised her at least a chance at freedom. She slipped her hand into her pocket, reassuring herself that Bellatrix's horrible wand was still there. Ryan pushed the door open an inch to peer into the alley.

"Looks like they're still around front. I was afraid they would be expecting you to exit the back way."

Ryan's entire demeanor changed from the public room to the kitchen. He didn't even seem like he had been drinking. His eyes scanned the alley for a second time before beckoning her closer.

"Be careful out there," he whispered. "They've managed to place an anti-Apparition ward around Runcorn for about a mile. It's weak, but still effective."

Hermione stared at the young man in disbelief. She couldn't believe how calmly he was informing her that he knew of the danger she was in. How could he have known? Who was he? Ryan smiled at her confusion.

"Hufflepuff," he announced. "I had already left before you started, Hermione."

"How did you…?"

"Let's just say we have friends in common. Friends that care very much for your safety. I'm going back around to the front of the pub to get Runcorn's attention. Count to sixty after I leave. When you get to sixty, run as fast as you can out this door. Keep going left as much as you can. Do not turn around for anything, no matter what you hear. Try to disapparate as soon as you think you've gone a mile."

He took both of her hands in his and gave her a reassuring peck on the cheek. With the handsome smile she remembered from earlier in the evening, he ran out the kitchen door. She slipped the door open to wait the sixty seconds he requested. They were the longest sixty seconds of her life.

"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty…"

She bolted through the back door and made a sharp left down the alley. At first she thought she made it out unnoticed. There was a commotion in front of the pub that she could hear even as the cold evening wind blew around her ears. She could hear several men and at least one woman shouting but couldn't make out a word they were saying. Keeping Ryan's words in mind, she ran as fast as she could without stopping to dwell on what was happening behind her.

"Someone's in the alley!"

The unmistakable sounds of heavy footfalls sounded behind Hermione. She didn't turn around to see who was coming after her. Every moment mattered and regardless of who was behind her, she knew their legs were longer than hers. It wouldn't take long to catch up to her.

"Stop running!"

She knew it was Dolohov behind her. His voice had haunted her nightmares since the Department of Mysteries. He had been so close to killing her that day. Her body still bore the scars he inflicted. Her terror spurred her on. She wasn't going to give in and let him take her again.

The alleys and sidewalks were slippery, but miraculously Hermione kept her footing as she ran. She'd never been a strong cross country runner, but it was amazing how a murderous madman behind her could motivate her to keep moving. A second set of running footsteps sounded behind her and she knew that whatever Ryan had tried to do to distract Runcorn failed. She hoped he was all right.

Every time Hermione came upon a left turn she took it in an effort to keep the wizards behind her disoriented. They had been reluctant up to that point to send any curses or jinxes her way, but she knew her luck wouldn't last much longer. Only the presence of ordinary Muggles walking through the city kept them from using magic on her. If they managed to keep up with her long enough for her make it to a less crowded area, she knew she would be in a full body bind before she could bring up a shield to protect herself. She kept running even when she feared she would never be able to breathe again. Her endurance surprised her. She had no idea how she was going to get at least a mile between her and Runcorn at this point. He was too fast and Dolohov was right there with him.

"You can't keep running forever, Granger!" Runcorn screamed at her. She didn't need to be reminded. She was already aware that she would be getting close to the end of her physical limits very soon.

She made another left turn at top speed to pass by a series of identical row houses with the same garden gate. After the third or fourth house, a pair of arms reached out through the garden gate and caught her. A strong hand covered her mouth to prevent her screaming. Whoever held her released their hold for just a moment to tap her head. Instantly a cooling sensation ran down her entire body. Runcorn and Dolohov ran right past her, unable to see her after a powerful concealment charm took hold.

"Where did she go?" Runcorn demanded.

"Maybe she apparated," suggested Dolohov.

"It's not possible! It's not possible. She must be around here somewhere. Split up!"

The strong arms wrapped around Hermione did not release her until the sounds of the two wizards lessened. When they were convinced the men were out of range, the mysterious figure behind her roughly turned Hermione around. In the dark it was hard to see, but after only a moment or two of her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Lucius Malfoy's silvery blond hair glistened in the faint moonlight.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

His voice was low and dangerous. Hermione's stomach dropped. She tried to run, but his arms were back around her before she made it even a step. With his hand covering her mouth, he leaned down to bring his lips directly to her ear. His breath floating over her neck brought shivers all over her body.

"What is that delightful Muggle saying, Miss Granger?" He continued, his voice a harsh whisper in the darkness. "Ah yes, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire'."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lucius Malfoy tightened his grip around Hermione. She had always noticed when she was in his presence in the past just how tall and intimidating Draco's father could be, but she never realized how utterly terrifying he could be until that moment. There was a long history between the man and young woman held close to each other in that innocent Muggle's back garden. Hermione did not know what Lucius' plans were for her, but she knew enough to be frightened beyond any fear she had experienced in her nineteen years. Even Dolohov didn't scare her as much as the wizard pressing his body against hers.

Hermione's stomach roiled within her. Between the abject terror she was experiencing and the burst of physical exertion she was unused to, she could feel her meal from earlier in the evening make its way back up her esophagus. Sensing what was about to happen, Lucius removed his hand from her mouth just in time. With both of Malfoy's strong arms wrapped around her waist, Hermione heaved and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the frozen grass. He did not loosen his grip on her for a moment.

"Now, now, Miss Granger, that is no way to greet an old friend."

He handed her an embroidered handkerchief to wipe her face. She wished she still had something left in her to spew in his face.

"You and I have never been friends," she hissed.

Lucius lowered his mouth, his warm breath tickling her ear again.

"Oh, but we could be such _close_ friends, Hermione."

His left arm moved up her torso to allow his hand to cover her breast. The innuendo was not lost on Hermione.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy!"

His hand squeezed her through her many layers. It wasn't hard or even painful, but the fact that she was being so casually groped by a man she so fiercely hated threatened to bring another attack of nausea.

"Perhaps," he replied, dropping his arm back to her waist and his mouth closer to her ear. "But I assure you any _attention_ you received from me would be infinitely more pleasurable and gentle than you could expect from Dolohov. Antonin does have a bad habit of playing with his food and he has been craving a bite of you since the Department of Mysteries."

His lips brushed against her ear and she couldn't suppress a shudder at the contact. Lucius just laughed at her reaction.

"I daresay that would be my reaction too if I found out Antonin had been dreaming of me in Azkaban."

"I thought you were both on the same side," she spat, wiggling feebly to remove herself from his grasp.

"Alliances are ever-changing and ever-evolving. If they were not, you would be locked in the arms of a lunatic instead of enjoying the comfort of mine."

Hermione couldn't suppress the derisive snort that escaped from her mouth. Amazing how even in Malfoy's clutches she could find him humorous. _Lunatic, indeed_.

"Before I forget…"

Lucius reached into Hermione's pocket, lingering inside far longer than absolutely necessary. She wasn't sure she could handle much more physical contact with this man before trying to crawl out of her own skin. His hand pulled Bellatrix's wand, and Hermione's only source of protection, from her pocket. He snapped the wand in two jagged pieces using only a single hand. Even though she hated the mere thought of the murderous wand, suddenly finding herself bereft of any kind of security filled Hermione with an anxiety she couldn't ignore. Now she was entirely at Lucius Malfoy's mercy. She gasped aloud at the sacrilegious act.

"How do you think they tracked you here, you silly girl?" Lucius teased, a biting undertone piercing his words.

"It's not mine," she almost shouted.

"No, it is not. It belonged to my dearly departed sister-in-law and after the stunt you and the other two imbeciles pulled at Gringott's, it is common knowledge who has possession of it now."

Lucius loosened his grip on her and turned her back around to face him. He relied on her interest in what he was saying and her complete vulnerability to keep her from bolting. One lazy flick of his wrist would have her _stupefied_ before she got very far at all.

"Albert Runcorn has been tracking the wands of known Undesirables with the help of our mutual acquaintance Garrick Ollivander."

"Mr. Ollivander? But he wouldn't…"

"He does not have a choice," Lucius snapped. "It is a new Ministry regulation. They are tracking all of the wands. Have been for months. When there had been no activity with your wand someone in the Ministry remembered that you had Bellatrix's old one. It took a fair amount of paperwork, but they got the trace on it yesterday."

"How can they even put a trace on someone's wand without having access to it?"

"For such a clever girl you have a lot to learn about magic."

Hermione glared at Lucius despite the darkness shielding her expression.

"You should be thankful that I was with Antonin this evening when Runcorn informed him there had been some magic performed with that wand," Lucius continued, pointing at the wooden shards lying in the grass. "I was able to contact an acquaintance to track you down before Dolohov and Runcorn could. Even made it so you would run right past me into my open arms if you followed his instructions."

"Ryan was sent by _you_?"

Lucius turned his most disarming smile on the young witch.

"Always helpful to have a few Hufflepuffs around. So loyal and trusting."

Hermione couldn't believe the story she was hearing. Ryan, the sweet, friendly Hufflepuff who just saved her from being captured by Runcorn and Dolohov was an operative of Lucius Malfoy's? And Lucius Malfoy was trying to _save_ her? There had to be more to this story than Lucius was letting on. He was one of the bad guys!

"Why do you even care what happens to me?" she demanded. "You are hardly the kind of person who would care whether I lived or died. In fact, I would assume you wouldn't care how my death came to be as long as I was dead!"

Lucius grimaced and feigned insult.

"You wound me, Miss Granger. Of course I care what happens to you."

"I don't believe you."

He simply laughed. She knew she had her face scrunched up in a petulant expression that wouldn't have been out of place on a five year old's face, but she did not care. This conversation, especially taking place with Lucius Malfoy's arms wrapped around her, was too bizarre to contemplate. She was having quite possibly the weirdest night of her life.

"Like I said earlier, for such a clever girl you have a lot to learn."

His grip tightened on her once more and he leaned down closer to her face. Hermione dropped her eyes to the ground, but Lucius placed a gloved hand under her chin and made her look him straight in the eyes again.

"Besides, I would not let a pestilent rat fall into Dolohov's hands. He is cruel beyond your imagination."

His grip on her chin softened.

"You deserve more than to be tortured at his hands."

"Why do you even care what happens to me, Malfoy? You hate me and everything I stand for. How many times did your own son call me a 'Mudblood'?"

Lucius ran his right hand over her cheek to gently push a lock of her unruly hair that had come out of her braid when she was running earlier behind her ear. She felt her entire body tense at the uncharacteristically tender gesture.

"Would you believe me if I told you I have seen the error of my ways and have been reformed?" he asked softly, brushing another lock behind her other ear.

Blown away temporarily by his hand running through her hair and his almost seductive tenor, Hermione needed a moment to process his words. After a couple of seconds she laughed a maniacal laugh out loud to rival even the Dark Lord's.

"'Can an Ethiopian change his skin or a leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil.'"

Lucius simply smiled his disarming smile once more. He didn't seem fazed by her response in the slightest. In fact, Hermione thought he seemed to rather like her retort.

"'Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind,'" he countered with a smirk.

"Are you really quoting the bible back at me?"

"You seem surprised, Miss Granger. You are not the only one here who enjoys curling up with a good book."

"Yes, but the _Bible_? How very… _enlightened_ of you."

Lucius laughed out loud. Yes, he was enjoying his discussion with Hermione very much. Not for the first time that evening, she wondered how the hell she was going to get away from him. With no wand and two, no, make that three, powerfully evil wizards searching for her, she had no chance. She was going to have to make a choice to go against her instincts and trust Malfoy or go against her instincts and trust that whatever fate Dolohov intended for her would be less painful.

"You are going to have to trust me, Miss Granger," Lucius whispered. He gave her the eerie impression that he could read her mind, and knowing what she knew about dark wizards, she wasn't entirely certain that he couldn't. "You are alone in the cold with no wand. It is only a matter of time before someone else, someone less desirable, catches up with you."

An unnerving feeling similar to the static electricity felt in the air before a lightning storm passed over the two. Lucius' eyes grew wide at the disturbance. He gestured to her silently to not say a word and dragged her to a remote, darkened corner of the garden. With another flick of his wand and silent incantation, she found herself unable to move a muscle. Crossing the garden back towards the gate, Lucius bent down to pick up the discarded pieces of Bellatrix's wand. He made it a few steps towards the garden gate before two dark red lines of energy shot in his direction. Proving what an adept wizard he was, his shield was up before any damage was done.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Albert Runcorn yelled from just outside the garden. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lucius stepped out onto the sidewalk behind the gate. Hermione couldn't see what was happening, but the garden was small enough that she could hear every word that was said on the other side of the privacy fence. Grateful for the dark corner Lucius put her in, she allowed a hope to believe she might get out of this sticky situation unharmed.

"Good evening to you as well, Albert. Lovely evening for a stroll, don't you think?" Lucius replied. "I do so love Scotland in the winter."

"Lucius, what are you doing here?" demanded Dolohov. He was struggling to catch his breath. All of the exercise running through the city was getting to him.

"I heard that an Undesirable was spotted in the city. How could I not rush over here and try to find her for myself?"

"Just like you, isn't it, Lucius?" Dolohov spat. "Show up after we've been looking for her and try to take all of the credit for her capture. Hoping the Dark Lord will reinstate you to his Inner Circle if you bring him Granger?"

Hermione was surprised to hear that Lucius was no longer part of Voldemort's elite. What had happened in the past several months since the final battle? Was Lucius telling her the truth earlier when he told her that he had been reformed? She could feel her heart racing the longer the three wizards stood outside the gate. If Dolohov or Runcorn made an attempt to inspect the garden, she would be found in under a minute.

"We received notification that there had been some activity with the wand that Hermione Granger was known to be in possession of," Runcorn explained, his tone a great deal calmer than Dolohov's. "The coordinates led us to this area. She shouldn't have been able to Disapparate from here. We have protections around the entire city until the Ministry can complete a thorough sweep. Did you see anyone when you got here?"

"Yes, I did see someone here," Lucius replied. Hermione felt her petrified stomach start to churn again. She briefly wondered what happened when you had to vomit in a full body bind. "Just for a moment. Earlier I saw a young woman, Miss Granger, was it? I saw her run down this street and then you two were right behind her. Assuming that you two had everything under control, I did not rush off after you both. A few minutes after I saw you two leave, I saw the young woman run back past this house and throw something in the gate."

"Did you try to stop her?" Dolohov shouted.

"I am afraid, Antonin, that she was gone too quickly for me to intervene. I did enter the garden to see what it was she threw in here."

"Is that the wand?" Runcorn asked, sighing loudly. "Broke it in half? Damn! That's why it registered as activity. The last bit of magic leaving the wand's core triggered it. Now there is no way to find out where she has gone."

"I do hope I have not ruined your evening, Albert."

Dolohov released a loud, guttural yell of obscenity upon seeing the wand remnants. It was startling for Hermione to hear the passion with which the wizard who once tried to kill her was expressing at not being able to find her again. Lucius' words about 'playing with his food' would've produced another shiver if she had the ability to move.

"We will keep searching for her, Antonin," Runcorn assured his associate. "She can't get far without a wand and we haven't exhausted all our efforts yet."

"Does this mean I have to walk outside of the city to apparate home?" Lucius asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"I'll lift the wards for a few minutes. Get yourself home as quickly as possible, Malfoy. A representative from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be by later to take your statement," Runcorn replied. "Come on, Antonin. Let's head back the way she came. Maybe she slipped back into that pub she was in earlier."

"Thank you, Albert. Antonin, do try to have a better evening."

Runcorn waved his wand and muttered a series of incantations before running off in the direction of the pub after Dolohov. Lucius rushed back inside the garden gate as soon as both wizards were out of sight. With another wordless spell he released Hermione from her binding.

"Grab my arm!"

Hermione did not hesitate even though internally she thought she probably should. At that moment she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Even huddled up in her tent in the frozen Forest of Dean like she was just about this same time last year was preferable. Lucius wasted no time in Disapparating them out of Inverness. When the initial feeling of being squeezed through a rather tight space passed, Hermione looked up at the area around her.

"Where are we?" demanded Lucius, pulling Hermione's arm into his grasp. "This is not where I was trying to take us."

Amazingly, they were standing in the frozen Forest of Dean. She must have interfered with Lucius' concentration when he was trying to apparate them away from Inverness. That was sometimes an unfortunate side effect of Side-Along Apparition. The familiar landscape brought fresh tears to her eyes. Harry and Ron had been with her the last time she was here. This was where Professor Snape brought them the Sword of Gryffindor and Ron saved Harry's life. A horcrux was destroyed in these very woods. Little did any of them know that at least one, possibly two of them would be dead in a year's time.

"It's the Forest of Dean," Hermione replied.

"What is the significance?" His query was terse, but not harsh.

"I was here last year around this time when we were searching..." She didn't need to continue. He understood. "Where were you trying to take me?"

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere those idiots would not try to look for you."

"Are you really trying to save me? Or are you just going to use me to get back in favor with You-Know-Who?"

She was surprised by her candor. So was he. Lucius loosened his grip on her arm and peered down at her. After a brief inspection of her features, he actually smiled at her. It was perhaps the most genuine facial expression she had ever seen on his face. Gone momentarily was the haughty disdain he usually showed her. It didn't last long before his features returned to what she had always known.

"No, I am no longer interested in currying favor with the Dark Lord," he responded. "I am not the only one trying to save you, believe it or not."

"You'll have to forgive me if your past encounters with me have led me to believe otherwise."

"I have to return to the manor immediately. If the DMLE representative arrives before I do there will be some uncomfortable questions. This forest will have to do for now."

"Excuse me? You're just going to leave me alone in a forest wandless in the middle of the night? I thought you were going to protect me."

Lucius released his hold on her person completely. Raising both his free arm and his wand arm he started muttering several different incantations. An invisible bubble formed around Hermione for several feet in every direction. The cold air and the falling snowflakes couldn't penetrate the area.

"Please stay here," he pleaded, his characteristically arrogant voice almost unrecognizable. "I understand that you are having difficulty trusting that I am truly here to protect you, so I will send someone along shortly that you know and trust. They will explain everything."

Lucius reached under his cloak to pull something out of his pocket. It was a special edition of the Daily Prophet.

"Some reading material. I understand that you have been a little cut off from the world. This should answer some of the questions you have been having."

With one last glance at Hermione's face, Lucius turned and disappeared. Hermione stared at the empty space he had been occupying for several moments before glancing down at the paper. The entire front page of the paper was covered in five moving photographs of individuals she knew very well. Finding a soft bit of ground to sit on, Hermione settled down in front of a tree to lean back on.

Neville Longbottom was the feature of the largest picture. He took up more than half of the page. "Undesirable No 1" was no longer Harry Potter. Her fellow Gryffindor was being sought out for "Crimes Against the Dark Lord" and for "Revolutionary Activity". She could've kissed the photograph of her dear friend in relief at knowing at least one person she loved was still alive and by the description in the paper, still fighting.

 _Undesirable No 1: Neville Longbottom_ _– Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord and for Revolutionary Activity. Considered to be very dangerous. Curse on sight. Last seen in Muggle London. May have since fled the country. Believed to be travelling with Hannah Abbott. Large reward offered for information relating to his capture, disembowelment or death._

Hermione knew that Lord Voldemort would never forgive Neville for killing his snake Nagini in the Battle for Hogwarts. She wondered how he had been able to get away after Harry was killed. She desperately wished to be able to speak to him again one day.

It should not have surprised her, but her own face was staring back at her when she moved her eyes further down the page.

 _Undesirable No 2: Hermione Jean Granger_ _\- Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Aiding and Abetting a Known Undesirable, Failure to Register with the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, Theft of Wand and Powers from Witch or Wizard Unknown. Considered to be very dangerous. Curse on sight. Last seen at the Great and Victorious Battle. Believed to be in the Inverness area. May be using her fellow Muggles to aid her. Large reward offered for information relating to her capture._ _ **Dark Lord wants her alive.**_

She could not fathom why Lord Voldemort wanted her alive enough to have it specified within the broadsheet describing her crimes. Did he have something special planned for her if captured? Is that why Dolohov was so keen to find her? For a brief moment she was grateful that her stomach was empty. She might have been sick again. To get her mind off of her situation, she continued reading.

 _Undesirable No 3: Kingsley Shacklebolt_ _– Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Seditious Language and Acts, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Dereliction of Duties. Considered to be very dangerous. Former Auror. Last seen in Muggle London. May be using ties with Muggle Prime Minister to remain undetected. Large reward offered for information leading to capture, disembowelment or death._

 _Undesirable No 4: George Weasley_ _– Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Seditious Language and Acts, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Revolutionary Activities, Smuggling of Humans and Property. Last seen in Hampshire. May be travelling with Angelina Johnson. Large reward offered for information leading to capture or disembowelment._

 _Undesirable No 5: Aberforth Dumbledore_ _– Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Smuggling of Humans and Livestock. Last seen in Hogsmeade. May be in the Godric's Hollow area. Large reward offered for information leading to capture or disembowelment._

The special edition of the Daily Prophet seemed to be entirely devoted to information regarding wanted 'criminals' and essentially the status of her loved ones. When she turned the page to see "Known Members of Dumbledore's Army and their Whereabouts" she could have kissed Lucius Malfoy in gratitude. He must have understood how desperate she was for any information. She had been cut off for so long. Steeling herself because she knew that in many cases the news was likely to be unpleasant, she began to read the list.

Abbot, Hannah – Believed to be travelling with Undesirable No 1

Bell, Katie – Captured. Imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies

Bones, Susan – Captured. Imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies

Boot, Terry – Captured. Imprisoned in Azkaban

Brown, Lavender – Deceased

Chang, Cho – Captured. Imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies

Corner, Michael – Captured. Imprisoned in Azkaban.

Creevey, Colin – Deceased

Creevey, Dennis – Fugitive. Believed to be in Australia.

Edgecombe, Marietta – No longer a member. Exonerated of all charges.

Finch-Fletchley, Justin – Fugitive. Believed to be in Muggle England.

Finnegan, Seamus – Fugitive. Believed to be in Ireland.

Goldstein, Anthony – Deceased.

Granger, Hermione – Undesirable No 2, See front page for more information

Johnson, Angelina – Believed to be travelling with Undesirable No 4

Jordan, Lee – Fugitive. Believed to be in the United States.

Longbottom, Neville – Undesirable No 1, See front page for more information

Lovegood, Luna – Captured. Imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies

Macmillan, Ernie – Captured. Imprisoned in Azkaban.

Patil, Padma – Fugitive. Believed to be in India.

Patil, Parvati – Fugitive. Believed to be in India.

Potter, Harry – Deceased.

Smith, Zacharias – Captured. Imprisoned in Azkaban.

Spinnet, Alicia – Captured. Imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies

Thomas, Dean – Fugitive. Believed to be in Ireland.

Weasley, Fred – Deceased.

Weasley, George – Undesirable No 4, See front page for more information

Weasley, Ginevra – Fugitive. Believed to be in Romania.

Weasley, Ronald – Deceased.

Hermione had been expecting to read the last line, but the finality of knowing that her first love was dead brought on an influx of emotions that left her huddled on the forest floor. She cried for the loss of Ron and for the loss of so many of her friends. Every single one of them was suffering or had experienced the ultimate suffering. All because of Lord Voldemort. A waste of life and of talent every single one of them. Her heart broke for the Weasley family. How many of them were still alive? And for how long? Several minutes passed before she could turn the page to read of the fates of the known members of the Order of the Phoenix.

It was as she expected – more dead than alive.

Deceased

Albus Dumbledore

Alastor Moody

Elphias Doge

Emmeline Vance

Mundungus Fletcher

Remus Lupin

Rubeus Hagrid

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Sturgis Podmore

Nymphadora Tonks

Molly Weasley

Reading of Molly's death was almost as hard as reading about her son's. It also did not surprise her. Molly was responsible for the death of Lord Voldemort's most valued supporter Bellatrix Lestrange. There was no possible way that she was going to survive the war unscathed. She probably did not even survive long after Harry did. Somehow she believed that Molly was likely the next to fall victim to Voldemort's wand. She had been a second mother to Hermione and she felt the loss profoundly.

Hermione threw the paper away from her. She didn't want to read anymore. After almost nine months of no news, the sudden bombardment of all of the deaths and tragedies was too much to bear. Leaning up against the tree, she pulled her knees up to her face and cried unashamedly once more. Part of her feared that she would never able to stop crying.

Several minutes or even hours passed in much the same way. She remained in the same position on the forest floor numb to the emotions she was feeling. Even though she was exhausted she could not find any rest. Lucius said that he would be sending her someone she knew and trusted, but there hadn't been any sign.

 _Did you honestly think you could trust that man, Hermione?_

Sometime in the middle of the night her reverie was interrupted by a rustling of tree branches behind her. Hermione jumped up from the floor, instinctively reaching for the wand she knew was no longer there. A silvery mist appeared way off in the distance. It was coming straight for her. When it was about twenty feet away from her, she could tell it was a patronus. When it was only a couple of feet away from her, she could tell it was a lynx. She could've cried again when she heard Kingsley's voice speak through the figure.

" _Hermione, stay where you are. I will find you in a few minutes."_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sixty seconds hardly passed before Hermione heard the distinctive pop of Apparition a few feet from her. The handsome and extremely welcome visage of Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared only feet away. It was obvious to anyone who had known this man before the final battle that the previous year had been rough on him. His all black Muggle clothes hung off his usually brawny frame as if he'd lost a great deal of weight in a short period of time. He was still the same towering hulk of a man who risked his life to protect her the evening the Order moved Harry to the Burrow, but she could see a hardness in his countenance that hadn't always been there. She had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Hermione waited about half a second after Kingsley removed the protective bubble around her and smiled his warmest and biggest smile before she threw herself into his open arms.

"My dear, dear girl," Kingsley's voice broke and shook with emotion. "My dear sweet, courageous girl!"

He held her close to his chest for a long time. They were both overcome and crying openly. Hermione lost count of the number of times Kingsley squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. She had been starved of human touch and interaction for so long that she clung to Kingsley like a drowning man clings to a buoy in the middle of the ocean. Kingsley was her place of safety and security in the middle of her personal ocean of pain and fear.

"I didn't believe Lucius when he told me he found you," he explained, his voice still breaking. Hermione didn't have to lift her head from his chest to know the tough former auror was still crying above her. "I called him a liar."

Hermione chuckled amidst her tears.

"Because he's been so trustworthy in the past," she teased.

Kingsley laughed his deep, booming laugh and Hermione's heart swelled. A bond is formed when someone risks their life to protect someone else that is hard to be broken. Kingsley and Hermione were a team the night that had come to be known as the Battle of the Seven Potters. They both put their complete trust in the other. She already felt her heart softening towards Lucius Malfoy. If he sent Kingsley to her in the middle of the night to a frozen forest, maybe he could be trusted.

"It does my heart good to see you again, sweet girl."

Kingsley gently pushed her from him, his arms still wrapped around her shaking frame. He placed a final kiss on her forehead and took her hand in his. He led her back to the tree she had been leaning against since Lucius left her alone.

"We have a lot to discuss, Hermione," he explained, settling himself down on the ground.

"I have so many questions," she replied as she sat down next to him.

Kingsley chuckled and winked.

"I'm sure you do. Ask away. I'll try to answer as best I can."

Hermione felt overwhelmed. She wasn't even sure where to start. She had been starving for information for so long that now she was drowning in a flood of news.

"Why is Lucius Malfoy helping you?"

"War creates strange bedfellows," he replied with a sigh. "I never would've imagined that I'd be relying on Lucius Malfoy for help of any kind, but he has turned out to be an invaluable asset."

"Are you certain that he's not just pretending to help you when he really wants to betray you? I heard Antonin Dolohov accuse him of trying to get back into You-Know-Who's favor."

"I would be a liar, Hermione, if I told you I'd never had any reservations about Lucius. I did, especially when he first started helping. This was a man who'd allowed the most evil witches and wizards into his home. He was charismatic enough to slip his way out of trouble in the past. It took me a few months before I began to believe in his sincerity."

"Why? What changed?"

"We haven't been the only ones to suffer, Hermione. Lucius has lost a great deal as well. His story is not my story to tell and I really only know bits and pieces of it anyway, but Lucius has suffered too. There's no more sycophantic devotion to the Dark Lord left in that man."

A silence fell between the two friends as Hermione processed Kingsley's words. She wasn't completely at peace with Lucius Malfoy, but her implicit trust of Kingsley would have to override her hesitations for the time being. She was confident in her belief that Kingsley would never knowingly allow someone to hurt her. That was going to have to be enough for now.

"Ron is dead."

It wasn't a question, but she needed confirmation. Kingsley squeezed her hand.

"Yes," he answered. "All of the Weasley family members are targets."

"I saw George is Undesirable No 4."

"George has been keeping the Ministry busy," Kingsley laughed. "If there's one person out there I want to remain on the same side as, it's George. He is honestly a little insulted that he is only number four. There's not even a reward offered for his death. He has been increasing his activity in hopes that he'll be reclassified as a higher priority."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to the remaining Weasley twin to be offended that fewer people wanted him dead.

"I was hoping my cousin would be a good influence on him, but I fear Angelina is becoming as fanatical as he is."

"So she really is with him?"

Kingsley nodded.

"Good! I'm glad to hear they're not alone."

"The Dark Lord called for the death of the entire Weasley family. Arthur is in Azkaban."

"Oh, no!"

"Has been since Molly and Ron were killed. They are keeping him alive until all of his children are dead."

"That's horrible."

"I quite agree. Bill and Fleur were in hiding in France last I heard. Her family has been instrumental in keeping them safe. Charlie was able to get Ginny out before it was too late. Reports say they might be in Romania, but I don't believe it. He's too recognized there."

"Where's Percy? Is he all right?"

"No one is certain where he is, but I think he's likely in Russia somewhere. We've had several Russian witches and wizards come to our aid in the past few months. He made quite a few contacts and friends in Russia when he worked for Barty Crouch. I remember having a conversation once in the lift with him at work about him learning to speak Russian."

"I hope you're right. Do you know where Neville is?"

"No, but he gets messages to me every few days or so. He'll be so pleased to hear you are safe. He is continuing the fight wherever he's at. He's found himself a good partner too."

"I read that they think Hannah Abbott is with him. Is that who you mean?"

"Yes. Neville smuggled them both out of Hogwarts after the battle was lost. He tried to find her a safe place to hide, but she refused to leave him. I expect they will be married soon if they can find enough time to recite their vows."

It warmed Hermione's heart to hear that Neville wasn't alone. She also tried to unsuccessfully push down the jealousy she was experiencing at hearing about her friends and their partners. Why had she spent the last several months completely and utterly alone? She could've used a partner too.

"There's something else I don't understand, Kingsley."

She picked up the special edition of the Daily Prophet she'd discarded earlier.

"Lucius gave this to me to read," she explained.

"That's not all he did with that," Kingsley replied. "He charmed the paper with a tracking spell to find your location. He didn't trust that you wouldn't run off and hide once he left, but he was pretty certain that you wouldn't leave the paper behind."

 _How very perceptive_ , she thought. He wasn't entirely wrong. A big part of her wanted to run as far as her short legs would carry her when Lucius left. She flipped the paper to the page describing the members of Dumbledore's Army.

"This right here," she said, pointing at Katie Bell's name. "This says that she has been captured and imprisoned in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies."

Kingsley dropped his eyes to the ground. He looked visibly unsettled.

"Kingsley, what _is_ the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies? Why are all of the girls imprisoned there and all of the boys are in Azkaban?"

He was reluctant to answer her questions. It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

"That's a question for another night, I'm afraid," he answered.

"No, Kingsley! What is it?"

"We should really get you out of the cold. Lucius should be finished getting your safe house ready by now."

Kingsley rose from the ground and tried to help Hermione up, but she wasn't budging.

"I'm not moving a single muscle until you tell me, Kingsley Shacklebolt. I have the right to know what has happened to my friends. Ron, Harry and I were the ones that created the D.A. and put all of these people in danger. What happened?"

Kingsley sighed.

"The Umbridge Home for Young Ladies was started just after the war ended at Hogwarts," he began to explain. "I don't have to tell you who came up with the idea. Her bloody name is in the title."

"Umbridge."

"Yes, hateful woman. There's a movement going on right now in the Ministry to encourage the increase of magical children born to pure or half blood parents. They want witches to have as many children as possible to expand our numbers. There are special incentives and awards for whomever can have the most children."

Hermione feared she knew where he was going with his explanation but hoped and prayed that Dolores Umbridge couldn't be as vile as she feared.

"When members of Dumbledore's Army were being captured and taken away to Azkaban, Umbridge had an idea to create a separate prison for all of the young pure and half blood witches still young enough to have children."

It was exactly as Hermione feared.

"Those deemed fit are being held there in order to provide even more children to the new regime."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and suppressed a scream.

"In exchange for carrying and giving birth to children that are immediately placed with Ministry approved adoptive parents, the prisoners will be able to eventually earn their freedom back."

"How?"

"The law states right now that each prisoner who gives birth to their twelfth healthy baby that survives to their first birthday will be granted parole."

Hermione felt she was going to be sick yet again that evening. How could one person be so abhorrent? Imprisoning the "rebels" was one thing. Forcing them to become impregnated, carry their unwanted babies for nine months and then have them forcibly removed from their mothers was another matter entirely. How could a program like this even be approved? It was disgusting.

"Are they being raped?" she blurted out.

" _Officially_ , no."

Kingsley looked as if he would be sick too.

"Officially they are to be artificially inseminated by Ministry approved donors."

"But that's not what is really happening, is it?"

"All I know is what I've heard from Lucius. He has heard rumors that Ministry officials and some of the Death Eaters make frequent visits to the home. He has heard the jokes from his associates about what really happens there."

Hermione burst into tears. Kingsley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his warm chest for the second time that night. She couldn't shake the grief and the guilt she was feeling. It was her fault! If she hadn't convinced Harry to start that organization all those years ago, there wouldn't have been a list of members to fall in Umbridge's hand. Her friends wouldn't be dead or locked up in Azkaban or locked up, raped and forced to have babies they did not want. She thought of sweet, loony Luna Lovegood forced to suffer and she feared her heart would break with the strain.

"It's all my fault," she cried.

Kingsley held her tighter.

"No, my sweet girl. It's not your fault. They followed you into battle of their own accord. No one could've expected how it would all turn out. No one could've even imagined that Umbridge was even capable of such diabolical ideas. I've known the woman for years and still can't believe it."

"And are people really just readily accepting what's going on right under their noses?"

"Fear is a powerful motivator. You know that, Hermione."

She did, unfortunately. All too well. This kind of behavior had happened in the past. Even within the same century she was born in. History always does have a sinister way of repeating itself.

"Some of the girls' parents have protested, of course," Kingsley said.

"What happened?"

"I think you already know what happened to them," he answered. "Locked up in Azkaban for 'seditious acts'. No one questions the Ministry openly any more without fear of retribution."

"There will come a day when I am face to face with Dolores Jane Umbridge again, and I will kill her with my bare hands."

"I firmly believe you are capable of that, Hermione. I promise to do everything in my power to give you the opportunity."

They were silent again for a few minutes. Neither really knew what to say to the other. After a time, Hermione began to shiver.

"We've got to get you somewhere warm. When was the last time you had a good meal? You're nothing but skin and bones, Hermione."

She knew she'd lost weight over the past year or so due to stress and irregular eating habits, but Hermione hadn't realized how different she looked. The knowledge that her dear friend found her much altered was an embarrassment.

"I had some soup earlier," she replied, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Don't worry, my girl. We'll get you fattened up again soon."

Kingsley winked at her. Immediately she felt less ashamed. It was not her fault she was practically starving.

"I'm just waiting on the signal before I can take you where you need to be."

"Where _am_ I going, Kingsley?"

She could sense hesitation on his part in answering her question which confused her greatly. What was the big secret?

"Hermione, I need you to trust me."

"I trust you with my life, Kingsley. I would've thought I've proven that to you before."

"Good. Thank you. Please trust me when I promise everything will be revealed in time."

She definitely didn't like his reluctance to answer a simple question. Again, what was the big secret? Why wouldn't he tell her where he was going to take her? A million more questions began forming in her head to ask Kingsley. Before she was able to however, their space was intruded by a beautiful, silvery peacock. She expected it to speak to them as Kingsley's lynx had, but the patronus dissipated without a sound.

"Everything is ready," Kingsley announced.

"Whose patronus is that, Kingsley?"

"Lucius'. Getting pretty good at it too. Can't make it speak yet, but he's working on it. Fast learner."

"He's just _now_ learning how to cast a patronus? I thought he was a powerful wizard?"

"He is, but the patronus charm is tricky. Not everyone can master it. Typically, the Death Eaters cannot produce one because they fight on the same side as what a patronus fights against. Bit of a contradiction for them to cast one."

"Professor Snape could produce one."

"Yes, but Severus wasn't exactly on the wrong side, was he? He wasn't really evil."

"So why can Malfoy suddenly be able to produce one? I'm still not entirely certain he is not evil."

Kingsley smiled down at her in a rather patronizing manner that she did not appreciate.

"Like I told you earlier, Hermione, Lucius has been through a lot as well. He's not the same man. I understand and respect your reservations about him, however."

"I will trust _you_ , Kingsley."

Kingsley took her right arm and pulled it firmly into the crook of his left. He took his wand out, but before he began the process of apparating her to whatever safe place Lucius Malfoy procured for her, he looked down at her.

"Because you promised to trust me, I have to ask you to not be angry with me."

"What would I have to be angry with yo…"

Kingsley's sudden Apparition cut off the end of Hermione's question. When the unpleasant sensation of the abrupt removal from the Forest of Dean subsided, Hermione could not suppress her shock and indeed, her anger at the environs she found herself in. Kingsley and Hermione were standing in the middle of an ornate garden behind an imposing manor house. She never expected to return to Malfoy Manor as long as she lived. The knowledge that she was back in the same place where Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her and planned to hand her over to Fenrir Greyback to be mauled was infuriating.

"You cannot be serious, Kingsley!" she exclaimed, yanking her arm from his.

"I _did_ ask you trust me."

"Do you know what I experienced in this godforsaken house? Do you understand that I was almost murdered here?"

"Lucius did say you might be reluctant."

"'Might be reluctant'? How very astute of Mr. Malfoy!"

Kingsley unsuccessfully tried to calm her down with a rub of his hand on her back. She shook his hand off and began pacing around the fountains.

"Please try to think about this logically, Hermione," Kingsley pleaded. "No one would ever expect you to be living here. No one would expect you to return here knowing your history."

She began to understand the wizard was making the tiniest bit of sense. He was correct in assuming that no one in their right mind would ever expect her to be living under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy in his ancestral home. She would not have believed it either. Her logical side could see the appeal to this plan, but her emotional side wished to be on a different planet than Malfoy Manor.

"It's not going to be permanent, Hermione. I promise."

Hermione turned to stare back at the large structure that held so many disturbing memories for her. The early morning sun was beginning to rise just over the horizon, but the house was still encompassed entirely by shadows. It was ominous and she couldn't imagine being able to sleep for a moment inside despite her growing exhaustion.

Hermione heard a door open at the back of the house. She looked up to make eye contact with a rather weary looking Lucius Malfoy as he strode across the grounds in her direction. He hadn't slept yet because he was still wearing the same clothes from the previous night, but substantially more wrinkled and a couple of buttons were undone on his shirt. His hair was ruffled as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration. The bags under his eyes and the shadow of unshaven skin gave his handsome face a more natural and less intimidating appearance than usual. _He almost looks human._

"Good morning, Kingsley," Lucius greeted, shaking the former auror's hand. "Miss Granger, how lovely to see you again so soon."

"Just stop, Lucius," she begged. "I am entirely too tired for sarcasm."

"Fair enough," he replied. "Let us get you inside. Kingsley, I was just about to start some breakfast. Care to join us?"

Hermione begged her friend with a silent twitch of her eyes. She wasn't ready to be alone with Lucius again. He had been entirely too _unnerving_ the evening before.

"Of course, Lucius. Thank you."

Hermione followed the two men across the garden to the back door Lucius exited from earlier. She was having a hard time getting her feet to move ahead of her because she was so exhausted and freezing. Once inside the door she was met with an almost overpowering heat from the kitchen. She was surprised that Lucius brought them in directly to the kitchen. It didn't seem to fit in his persona to be bothered with that particular room. Hermione shrugged out of her outer layers.

Lucius led his two guests to a large homey plank table in the middle of the room. It was ancient. No doubt it had been in the manor for hundreds of years. She sat down next to Kingsley and had to stop herself from laying her head down on the table. The room was just so warm and cozy. Lucius waved his wand at the kitchen stove and three plates flew across the room to land in front of them. The plates were piled with a simple fare of scrambled eggs and toast. There was bacon on the two men's plates, but Hermione just had an extra piece of toast.

"Please excuse the unimaginative breakfast," Lucius said. "I am just too fatigued to make anything more extravagant."

"Looks wonderful, Lucius. Thank you," replied Kingsley.

"I was not sure that your body could handle bacon just yet, Miss Granger. Your cheekbones show how little you have been eating lately and after you were sick last night, I thought you should ease back into solid food."

"Thanks," she mumbled, not wanting to draw attention to the fact she couldn't believe he could be so thoughtful and observant.

"I apologize for my delay, Kingsley. The representative from the DMLE was here for hours. I thought it would just be a quick interview to make a short statement, but I must have repeated my story a hundred times."

The three continued their breakfast in silence. Hermione was indeed hungry, but after a few mouthfuls of eggs and some nibbles on her toast, she felt uncomfortably full. She was going to have to get used to eating on a regular basis again. Her eyes wandered the warm kitchen as the men finished eating. It was a large room, but with the cheerful fires it was as comfortable as her parents' kitchen back home. She was surprised to find the master of the manor cooking the breakfast instead of a servant or house elf, but she didn't ask. None of her business really and she wanted to engage Lucius Malfoy in as few conversations as humanly possible.

"I received an owl shortly before you arrived," Lucius announced. "Garrick requested I send you his way as soon as possible. He has a package for you to pick up."

"Excellent!" said Kingsley. "I will head over there right now."

"But we just got here!" exclaimed Hermione.

She wasn't ready to be left alone just yet. Likely she would never be ready. Lucius wasn't offended by her reaction. He simply laughed and continued to eat. Kingsley rose from the table and pulled Hermione into another warm embrace.

"You promised you would trust me," he whispered. "Do you still trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"You will be safe." He raised his voice back up to a level Lucius could hear as well. "I must be off, Lucius. Thank you again for helping Hermione last night. If you hadn't have been there… well, I don't even want to imagine what might've happened."

Lucius shrugged off the other wizard's gratitude and walked him to the back door. With another smile in Hermione's direction, Kingsley exited the manor, leaving her uncomfortably alone again with Lucius Malfoy.

"If you are finished with breakfast, I will show you where you will be staying and go over some guidelines of your stay."

With a wave of his wand the table was cleared of the remnants of their meal. He walked straight to the door leading out into the hall with Hermione close behind. She knew the manor was large from her previous visit, but she was not aware of how large it was until that morning. Lucius led her down a long, dark hallway towards the main entrance foyer. She must have seen dozens of closed doors on her way. At the grand staircase in the front hall, Lucius turned and headed up. Her shorter legs struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"I do not entertain as often as I used to." Lucius' voice breaking the silence surprised Hermione. "You should be safe if you remain inside the manor at all times. Occasional forays into the gardens can be arranged, but only if you are suitably disguised. It would not do to have someone spot you from outside the gate."

"What sort of disguise are you referring to?"

"When you are outside or when the rare visitor appears, we cannot hide you completely. My former associates are the paranoid type, as you can imagine. They always search the house with magic to ensure that I am alone."

"So as long as I am here I may actually have to speak with your _associates_?"

"It is an unlikely scenario, but we must be prepared for any eventuality."

Lucius turned towards the east wing of the house when they reached the second floor. There were fewer doors around the large corridor indicating that perhaps the rooms were much larger on this floor than they had been downstairs. She was surprised he didn't seem to be leading her into a tiny, stuffy attic room. He stopped three doors down from the staircase. They stood in front of ornate double doors.

"The master suite is just across the hall," he said, pointing to the doors opposite from where they were standing. "I have no servants, so if you need something, you can usually find me in there or downstairs in my study."

Hermione thought it highly unlikely that there would ever be a time that she would willingly knock on Lucius Malfoy's bedroom door in the middle of the night. Nothing could be that dire. He pushed open the doors to her bedroom and she had to stop herself from gasping aloud. The single room she was standing in was almost as large as the entire first floor of her family home. A large, decadent-looking canopy bed with mountains of fluffy light blue and yellow pillows dominated the space. There was also a fireplace with a lavishly embroidered chaise lounge and matching arm chairs in front. A walnut desk sat in front of one of the large windows overlooking the front of the house. In the corner there was an armoire heavily engraved with vines and flowers.

"I have placed a dossier on your desk over there explaining the identity you will assume if we have guests during your stay. There is also an ample amount of polyjuice potion in the top drawer. After you have had some sleep please familiarize yourself with the dossier."

He crossed the room to the armoire and pulled on the handle to open it. Inside were dresses, robes and other garments of all colors and styles.

"This wardrobe has been charmed to ensure that any item of clothing you pull out will fit you perfectly. You should be able to meet all of your needs with this, so you may be interested in burning the rags you are currently wearing."

Hermione didn't even have the energy to be insulted. He wasn't wrong either. Her clothes were beginning to be just a little bit worse than "threadbare". He moved on to the door just past the clothing.

"This is your personal bathroom. You should find it fully stocked with anything you may require."

She was more than a little excited about the prospect of a warm shower ahead of her. A yawn escaped from her mouth despite her best efforts as he passed by her on his way out the door. He stopped inches in front of her. With a disarming smirk, he leered down at her.

"I would suggest that you take a shower before you go to bed," he said. "You might fall asleep in the bathtub and I really am too tired to watch you through the keyhole to be sure you do not drown."

"You're disgusting, Malfoy."

Lucius brushed his hand on her cheek and gently held her chin.

"Now, now, Miss Granger. We are to be stuck alone together for an indeterminate amount of time. It would behoove us to make the best of it."

She glared at his smirk. He was merely amused.

"I will be just across the hall. Please do not hesitate to join me there if you should _need_ something."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Hermione stood under the steaming water of the shower head for far longer than she usually would. Her showers were usually quick, efficient events where not a single moment was wasted. She allowed herself to indulge in the luxury of simply standing under a waterfall of delightfully hot water. Every muscle in her body was beginning to relax. The simple knowledge that she was no longer completely by herself was enough to loosen up some of the tension she had been experiencing for months. Someone was better than no one, even if that person was Lucius Malfoy.

The entire luxurious bathroom was full of steam when Hermione turned the taps off and stepped onto the lush bath rug covering the warm, tiled stone floors. She wrapped a plush towel around her entire body before stepping back into the bedroom to find something to wear. Her beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm was still lying on the bed with the dirty clothing she removed before her shower. Lying next to the bag was a pair of dark blue cotton pajamas she had not seen before. Knowing Lucius must have come in her room while she was showering, she could not stop a fleeting thought about what he said about watching her through the keyhole. She did not really believe he would be something quite as crass as that.

There really was nothing suitable to wear so she pulled on the apparent men's pajamas. One pull of the drawstring in the pants tightened them enough on her bony frame to not have to fear them falling off. The buttoned shirt was far too large for her but she felt warm and comfortable enough to not care. She climbed on top of the immense bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep only moments after snuggling under the covers.

The sun was long gone when Hermione finally opened her eyes again. She couldn't be sure how many hours she had been sleeping, but she was absolutely rested. More so than she had been in months. Sleep wasn't exactly hard to come by when she was in hiding. Some days there was very little else to do but sleep. It was never completely restful however. With no one to keep watch over her while she slept, she would wake up frequently, startled by any noise outside the tent.

Hermione reluctantly rose from the warm, comfortable bed. A fire had been lit in her fireplace. She wasn't sure if the fires lit themselves or if Lucius had come in while she was sleeping to light it. Either way she was grateful for the warmth radiating from the grate and the light it shone over the unfamiliar space. Remembering her promise to review the dossier he provided for her new identity, Hermione took the files from the desk on her journey to the chaise lounge in front of the fire. A delicate, but toasty, looking pair of slippers sat in front of the fireplace absorbing the fire's warmth. Her question about who lit the fire was answered. Lucius' thoughtfulness was surprising. Maybe years of being a high society host taught him how to adequately anticipate the needs of his houseguest.

With her feet warm and a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Hermione lowered herself onto the exquisite chaise. She didn't even want to imagine how much a fine piece of antique furniture like it cost. The Malfoys certainly did enjoy their luxury. Best enjoy it and take advantage of it while she could.

Hermione was to be disguised as Isla Black-Fawley, one of the dozens of Black cousins and coincidentally, Lucius' own goddaughter. Isla was twenty-five and moved out of the country when she was still a child after her widowed mother remarried an American wizard of questionable origins. At least she wouldn't have to worry about someone recognizing Isla from Hogwarts. She read through all of the documents and reviewed all of the photographs multiple times. After almost an hour of studying, she found she could no longer ignore the insistent growling of her stomach.

She wasn't sure how late it was. The sun never stayed out long on winter days. She didn't think she'd slept for more than twelve hours, but she couldn't be positive. She pulled a bathrobe that had been hanging in her bathroom over her pajamas and headed out the door. The manor was eerily silent. Empty buildings usually were at night. She remembered Kingsley's promise that her stay here wouldn't be permanent and she took a bit of comfort from that thought. She did not see Lucius as she made her way down the second floor corridor and then down the staircase. Hoping he was either asleep or tucked up in his study, she received an unpleasant surprise when she opened the door to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. I trust you slept well."

He was standing over the stove stirring a pot. Every few seconds he would wave his wand and more freshly chopped vegetables would fly across the room to land in his soup. The smell was intoxicating. Hermione was certain she could eat anything he had to offer at this point. Her stomach released a loud growl that unfortunately did not go unnoticed. Lucius smirked.

"Take a seat and I will bring you a bowl," he offered.

She did not need to be told twice. Moments later she was seated at the plank table and ready to eat. Lucius banished a loaf of hot, fresh bread to land on the table in front her. Hermione's mouth was watering.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. Her mother had ingrained a spirit of helpfulness in her when she was young. She'd been programmed to ask that question since she was five.

"No, thank you, Miss Granger," he replied, levitating two bowls in front of him to land on the table. "I believe I have it all under control."

"You don't have to keep calling me Miss Granger, you know. If we are to be struck here alone there's no reason to not call me by my first name."

Lucius nodded. He placed the bowl of steaming vegetable soup in front of Hermione. Despite the growling that had increased tenfold since she smelled the food, she waited until he was seated across from her before tucking in.

"All right, _Hermione_."

"Thank you."

"It is rather fortunate that we are being so informal now seeing as how we no longer dress for dinner at the Manor."

Hermione immediately felt embarrassed by her attire. She was hoping he wouldn't say anything, but with a quick glance in his direction she saw the smile on his face. He was teasing her.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I didn't know what time it was and was just planning on coming down here for a snack. I didn't expect you to be in here."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Miss… _Hermione._ Indeed, I have never seen my pajamas look quite so fetching on anyone before and I have seen myself wear them."

Her cheeks blushed crimson. Why was he so skilled at making her embarrassed?

"Thank you for them," she answered, making a split second decision to not let him get to her again. She lifted her head boldly to look him in the eye. "They are very comfortable and warm."

"Perhaps too big, but they were the best I could find. Draco's would have fit you a little bit better, but he took all of his clothes when he left."

It was the first time he had mentioned his son. She still had no idea where Draco was following the war ending. Realizing he perhaps said more than he meant to, Lucius began slicing the bread to direct his attention elsewhere. He handed Hermione a slice still warm from the oven.

"Narcissa's clothes are all in storage now," he continued quietly, not meeting her eyes. "I was limited in my options with the short timeframe."

"They are great," she assured him. "I really appreciate them."

An awkward silence fell between them. Hermione shoveled delectable soup into her mouth to not have to say anything. She was impressed with his culinary skills and once again stopped herself from asking why he no longer had servants.

"I am sure I could find something in Bellatrix's old room," Lucius announced with a smirk. He at least seemed determined to banish the discomfort that plagued them. "She left all of her clothing and personal effects in her guest suite in the west wing."

"I would rather go starkers than wear something that belonged to that woman!"

Lucius raised a single eyebrow.

"That would be a most diverting dinner indeed."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush again. She hadn't meant to say what she was thinking out loud.

"I know. I know," Lucius said. "I am disgusting."

Lucius smirked at her over his bowl. She was shocked for just a moment before she burst out laughing. The tension between them seemed to break. They returned to their meals with a much more comfortable silence. Hermione was enjoying the fresh vegetable soup. It didn't take much before her stomach started to feel full again. She wondered how long it would take before she was able to enjoy a complete meal again without feeling sick to her stomach.

"This is delicious," she announced after several minutes of neither of them speaking.

"Thank you."

"I must admit that I'm surprised to find you know your way around the kitchen."

He took another bite of bread. Hermione couldn't help but feel she had said too much once again that evening. Lucius swallowed and sighed.

"If I did not learn how to feed myself, I would have starved."

"I just assumed you would have at least a house elf." Why couldn't she stop talking?

"Yes, well, as part of the Dark Lord's retribution for my family's traitorous acts during the war, we were relieved of all of our household staff."

He did not provide any more details and Hermione didn't ask. Kingsley said that Lucius had a story to tell, but she was not going to press him for any details. It wasn't her business what had happened to the man. They all had suffered. All because of the damned Dark Lord. Hermione pushed her bowl from her and stood. Lucius reached across the table placing his hand on top of hers to stop her from leaving.

"I'm sorry, Lucius. Living alone in a tent for almost nine months has somewhat dulled my social graces. I may have to relearn how to interact with others."

He didn't respond. Simply squeezed her hand for a couple of moments before releasing. He rose from his chair in one swift motion.

"I have a bottle of red I have been wanting to open, but did not want to drink it all myself," he announced, banishing the dirty dishes to the sink. "Would you care to join me in my study?"

Hermione wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. Part of her was enjoying simply spending time with another human being. She wasn't ready to hide back up in her room alone again. Lucius was staring at her, waiting for her to answer. He seemed more vulnerable in that moment than she had ever seen him before. Almost as if she had the power to crush him simply by telling him no. Obviously she wasn't the only one who was lonely.

"That sounds lovely, Lucius. Thank you."

Another genuine smile crossed across his features again. She followed him out of the cozy kitchen into the darkened hallway. Unlike when he was taking her to her room earlier in the day, he didn't walk quickly ahead of her. He stayed only a few inches in front of her, frequently turning back around to make sure she was following. Was he afraid that she would change her mind?

The study was located just off the entrance hall in the front of the manor. Lucius approached a pair of large, elaborately carved doors. He reached for the door knob and stopped to turn to look at Hermione. She felt nervous.

"I forgot to mention that I have dogs," he said. "I got in the habit when we had _guests_ in the manor of keeping them in the study. No one else ever went in there. They seem to enjoy sleeping all day in front of the fireplace."

"I like dogs."

Lucius smiled and turned the doorknob. He pushed open the door to the room, gesturing for her to enter first. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect from Lucius's study, but she was astounded by the warmth and seeming comfort to the room. If she could design a room to spend most of her time in, this would be it. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of books of all sizes and subjects lined each of the walls. She felt certain she could read all day every day and it would still take years to read everything he had. A large fireplace dominated the room. Two of the largest canines Hermione had ever seen were blissfully asleep in front of the roaring fire. She could understand the appeal of spending all day in this room. There was a large leather sofa in front of the fireplace she could see herself laying down on with a good book.

"What a wonderful room," she said, hoping to find something to fill the silence with. Lucius was still an intimidating man even if she was wearing his pajamas. "You have quite a collection."

"You may read any you like," he offered.

"Thank you."

Hermione crossed the room to the sofa. The dogs started to stir as she came closer. After settling herself down on the end of the sofa, one of them raised its head to stare at her. They were both massive, but didn't seem threatened by her presence. A moment of staring at her and the dog laid its head back down to return to its somnolent state. Lucius handed her a glass of fragrant red wine over the back of the sofa. He stopped to scratch both of the dogs behind their ears before sitting down on the sofa with his own glass in his hands.

"They are enormous," Hermione said with a laugh. "What are they?"

"Scottish deerhounds. The one on the left is Cassius and the other one is Sophie. They are actually quite friendly despite their size. I let them outside to run and explore in the mornings, but then they are content to sleep the rest of the day and night in front of the fire."

"There are worst ways to spend your life." Hermione took a sip of the wine. She wasn't used to the fine quality of the wine, but could appreciate a good vintage. "The wine is delicious."

"Thank you. I do not like drinking a bottle by myself. I can do it, but I do not enjoy it."

There were no sounds for a few minutes other than the fire crackling and the dogs snoring softly. Hermione sipped the wine enjoying the warmth it radiated through her limbs. She wasn't used to drinking wine and Lucius poured her a very liberal first glass. When it was empty, he summoned the bottle to refill both of their glasses.

"You still do not trust me," he stated after they were both about two glasses in. It wasn't a question but a statement of fact.

"There's a history between us," she replied, taking a large swallow of the wine.

"Everyone has a past. I am not proud of mine. All I can do is attempt to redeem myself in the present to make way for a better future."

"Why are you helping me?"

Hermione was surprised at her audacity in asking the question she had been wondering all day. She had planned on easing into this discussion. Not blurting it out in a moment when wine loosened her lips. She was embarrassed for only a second before she came to her senses. She had a right to know _what_ had happened to make Lucius Malfoy an ally. Her eyes rose up and met his cool grey eyes. He didn't seem stunned by her question however. Must have been expecting it from the beginning.

"A lot has changed in my life, Hermione," he answered unashamedly. "These past few years have been _difficult_. I can understand and respect that you may have questions. In the spirit of honesty I will be glad to provide you with any answers that I can."

"Why are you in this big, empty house all by yourself?"

The question came off her lips before she even thought it through. She hadn't planned on starting right off with asking where his family was, but the wine was going straight to her head. She felt uninhibited for the first time since she arrived.

"As I told you earlier, my servants were appropriated by the Dark Lord," he answered in a cool tone. "My wife is dead and my son has been ordered to complete an apprenticeship with Horace Slughorn at Hogwarts under the sharp eye of the Dark Lord. He has set himself up the castle in order to oversee the education of the British wizarding children."

"I'm very sorry to hear about your wife."

"She died at the Battle of Hogwarts or as they are referring to it now, "The Great and Victorious Battle"."

"We both lost loved ones that day."

He refilled their glasses again, emptying the bottle.

"Nothing "Great" or "Victorious" about it for us then, right?" he asked.

"Nothing at all."

"When I was young I thought I had all of the answers," Lucius continued, sipping his wine while he spoke. "Everything is black and white when you are young. You are idealistic and think you have all of the answers. When I left Hogwarts I was introduced to a powerful wizard who seemed to espouse all of the ideals that I had been raised to believe were correct.

"The time that has come to be known as the "First Wizarding War" was exciting and I firmly believed in what I was doing. When the Potters were killed and the Dark Lord was destroyed, at least that is what we all believed, I was able to get out of trouble by lying that I did not know what I was doing at the time. Claimed I was under the Imperius Curse and the Ministry actually believed me. They believed what I wanted them to believe because of my money.

"When he came back everything was different. I had the benefit of years of experience and the knowledge that comes with being older to understand that what I had so vehemently defended and believed in my youth was not worth the safety and security of my family. I went along with the mission at the Department of Mysteries, not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice."

Lucius summoned a second bottle of wine from his desk. With another wave of his wand the cork flew out of the bottle and landed near the dogs, startling them from their slumber. He filled his glass and then filled Hermione's without her asking. They both continued to sip their glasses for a few minutes without another word. Hermione could feel the wine coursing through her body up to her head. Between her inexperience with strong wine and her inability to fill her stomach with solid food, she knew she was well on her way to being very drunk.

"The thing about Azkaban is it gives you ample time to think through all of the mistakes you have made and all of the atrocities you have committed. Azkaban was worse than what I even imagined in my worst nightmares. By the time I was broken out I was not the same man I was when I went in. That is part of the design of the place I assume.

"My family was in disgrace by then due to my failures in the Ministry. The Dark Lord even gave my only son an impossible task that would likely end in his death to punish me. When the Dark Lord set up his headquarters in my home I hoped we would be able to earn his respect back."

"So you stood by and allowed your sister in law to torture me."

His eyes snapped to Hermione's. She could see pain in his grey eyes that hadn't been there earlier in the evening. Was it remorse? She couldn't be certain.

"Yes, I stood by and watched as Bellatrix tortured you and offered you to Greyback as a snack. I am not proud of my actions."

"You also allowed the imprisonments of Luna Lovegood and Mr. Ollivander in your cellar. You would've given Harry over to You-Know-Who to be murdered."

"Like I said, I am not proud of my actions!"

"Why should I trust you now?" Hermione raised her voice to match his level. "Why should I believe that allowing me into your home is not just another opportunity for you to make good with You-Know-Who? That by handing me over to _him_ you aren't trying to get back into his good graces?"

Lucius reached across the sofa and grabbed her arm. It wasn't painful, but he was insistent. She met his eyes without flinching.

"Because the Dark Lord made my son and me torture and murder my own wife!"

Whatever she was expecting him to say, that was not it. She could feel tears building up in her eyes and tried to use all of her self-control to prevent them from rolling down her cheeks. This was not the time to break down.

"What do you mean? What happened?" Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.

"She lied to the Dark Lord about Potter being dead when we were in the Forbidden Forest before the battle started up again." His voice dropped down to as quiet as hers. "We were both desperate for information about Draco. We did not know where he was or whether he was dead or alive. Cissa checked Potter for a pulse and when she found one, asked him if Draco was still in the castle.

"If she had not lied to him we may not have been able to get to the castle in time to find our son. When the battle started up again, neither of us cared what was happening around us. We did not join the ranks to duel those fighting against the Dark Lord. Thankfully we found Draco before any of us was injured.

"When Harry fell, she knew that her life was forfeit. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she was punished for lying. She made Draco and me promise that no matter what happened we would do what was necessary to survive."

Lucius continued to fill his glass. Hermione lost count the number of glasses they had both consumed, but he emptied two full bottles. He started to summon a third. Hermione placed her hand on his wand arm to stop him. Lucius stared at her hand on his arm as if he had never seen anything like it before. After a few moments he took her hand in his free hand. She didn't pull it from him. She knew he needed the human touch at that point.

"We assumed foolishly that it would be a quick death. Assumed that he would employ the killing curse as he had for countless others before her. She met her death with a bravery I have never seen before. Walked right up to the Dark Lord in the Great Hall and looked him right in the eyes. I have never been prouder of her than I was at that moment. She was _remarkable_.

"The dust settled in the castle. Those who were going to flee had already fled. Captives were being taken all over the castle and its grounds. The Dark Lord murdered Molly Weasley in front of everyone. She was an extraordinary witch. I always thought that she settled for Arthur and that he did not deserve her.

"He called for our family when Molly's body was being taken away. He announced to everyone assembled what she was guilty of and pronounced sentence. She was to die, of course, but not before she was tortured. He wanted to break her first. Wanted her to lose her mind."

Hermione quietly gasped. She placed her empty wine glass on a table next to the sofa and took Lucius' free hand. He stopped for a few minutes, steeling himself for the continuation of his tale. His eyes were on their hands; he couldn't bear to look Hermione in the eyes as he spoke of his late wife's fate. It was too hard to imagine.

"First, he made me apply the Cruciatus Curse on her. I will not lie to you. I have performed this curse on numerous individuals. Some at his insistence and some for my own personal amusement. She was strong… like you were."

Their eyes met again, and Hermione couldn't keep the tears from falling. Lucius removed his right hand from hers and gently brushed away her tears. After a second or two, he dropped his hand and his eyes.

"Then he made Draco torture his own mother. Made him apply the curse until she could not be strong for us anymore. She finally screamed and Draco hesitated. The Dark Lord turned to me and told me to show my son what he was doing incorrectly. I crucioed Draco."

Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to stop crying. She didn't want to be this emotional with this man. Normally she was good at keeping her emotions private. Something about the broken man in front of her made her lose the control she worked so hard to maintain.

"He stopped me after a minute or so, but it was still an eternity. I never once raised my hand in anger to my son and there I was using an illegal torture curse on him. If there was ever a moment when I questioned my loyalties and what I had spent the majority of my life fighting for, this was that moment. He made me return my attentions to my wife.

"I loved Narcissa. Loved her very much. Our marriage was not perfect. I will not pretend that it was. We argued and we gradually fell into a companionable relationship that lacked the passion that we started with. Maybe that is what marriage is for everyone else. I do not know. As I held my wand and watched her writhe under the intense torture, I could not help but admire her. She showed a strength that I never had. I cannot say that I would have lied to the Dark Lord like she did.

"He wanted her broken before we killed her. Wanted her to be insane before we finally put her out of her misery. Do you know how long it takes for the Cruciatus curse to drive a person insane?"

Hermione shook her head. She had no idea.

"The stronger a person's mind is, the longer it takes to break it. Cissa had a very resilient mind. Draco and I took turns for literally hours before she finally was a shell of the woman I fell in love with when we were teenagers. Draco and I were exhausted, physically and emotionally. It takes a great deal of energy to torture someone. When the Dark Lord was satisfied that Draco and I had proven our loyalty to him and that my wife was shattered, he made my son murder his mother. Made my son cast the killing curse on his own mother."

Lucius released both of Hermione's hands. He revolved his body around the face the fireplace. One of the dogs rose from their spot on the floor and laid their head in his lap. He absentmindedly scratched their head, his mind was obviously elsewhere.

"Draco was forced to take an apprenticeship hundreds of miles away from here and my remaining house elves were 'reassigned' to work in the Hogwarts kitchens," Lucius continued after a tense, awkward few minutes. "I was left to ramble this house alone. None of my former 'friends' want anything to do with me. It does not really matter. I do not want anything from them anymore either."

Lucius stopped scratching his dog to unbutton his left sleeve. He pulled the sleeve up and thrust it into Hermione's face. The arm was scarred, the Dark Mark blasted off. She didn't know it was possible to stay alive after Lord Voldemort was through with them. She'd never heard of someone having their Dark Mark forcibly removed.

"Can you understand now why I no longer want anything to do with the Dark Lord?"

His voice was breaking. His usual strong, intimidating façade was crumbling before her. Maybe Lucius Malfoy was simply a man. Hermione has villainized him for years as something more than he was.

"When _they_ were trying to get Mr. Longbottom to come out of hiding right after the end of the war I knew I could not just sit by and watch."

"What do you mean?" She knew nothing about what Neville experienced.

"He was the Dark Lord's number one priority after Harry Potter. Wanted him dead for killing his snake. If ever there was an animal that deserved what it got, the snake did. Disgusting creature even if I am a Slytherin! There was a plan to get Mr. Longbottom out of hiding by using his parents as bait."

"That is horrible!"

"Indeed. His parents were paraded through Diagon Alley still clad in their pitiful hospital gowns. They sent messages throughout the country explaining what they were going to do to his parents if he did not show up in order to entice him to come to their rescue."

Lucius seemed reluctant to continue.

"Perhaps you have heard enough for the evening," he suggested.

"No. I am all right. Please tell me."

"Frank Longbottom was strangled to death in front of a crowd in the middle of the street. His son did not show himself. They waited a few hours to give him the opportunity to hear what happened. Then they took his poor, destroyed mother out to parade through the streets.

"I knew Alice Longbottom when we were children. She was a few years younger than me, but as with all pureblood families we were related distantly. Her parents and my parents used to spend a lot of time together. She was younger than me so I was not interested in playing with her, but even as a child, I could see what a sweet, pure soul she was. She did not deserve what Bella did to her. I never liked my sister in law, but her actions were despicable."

"What did they do to Neville's mother?" She didn't really _want_ to know, but she knew she needed to hear.

"Several of my former associates raped her in the street."

Hermione gasped and burst into tears.

"I was watching the crowd, what was left of it anyway, for Neville. I knew he would try to come and stop it. He was standing in an empty storefront. Without anyone noticing I was able to approach him and stop him from running out into the street foolishly. By that time, his poor mother was already dead. It would not have helped for him to expose himself.

"I, somehow despite my history, was able to convince him to come with me. It was probably only shock. In his position, I would not have gone anywhere with me. He contacted Kingsley and we all met at the manor. Kingsley was suspicious of me, understandably. Neville stayed here for several days until we could get him a new, untraceable wand and Miss Abbott. From there I started helping the resistance where I could."

"Why did you help me?"

Lucius reached across the sofa and grasped one of Hermione's hands again.

"Someone needed to save you from Antonin Dolohov. No one deserves that man."

"Thank you for finding me."

Hermione rose from the sofa and with a whispered 'good night' went back upstairs to bed leaving Lucius alone in his study with his demons.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"'Mione? 'Mione?"

A familiar voice called to Hermione from the other side of the drapes covering her bed. She'd pulled the curtains around the canopy bed shut the night before to allow herself to sleep through the early morning sun. Following the intense conversation she had with Lucius the night before, she knew she would want to escape reality for a little while longer. And she was fairly certain she would wake up with one hell of a hangover. She lost count the number of glasses of wine she imbibed, but she knew it was more than she had ever had in one sitting before.

"'Mione? You awake?"

Slowly she started to wake up and become aware of her surroundings. Her head was pounding fiercely. She was afraid she would throw up. There was a reason she never wanted to partake in the alcohol that was passed around the Gryffindor common following memorable Quidditch wins. She never wanted to end up like the other girls spending a great deal of quality time the next morning getting to know the toilet.

"Ang, will you peek in there to make sure she's decent? I don't want to see anything I shouldn't."

Hermione ignored her pounding head for a moment to leap out of bed and directly into George Weasley's arms. Her sudden appearance caught him off guard and he was only just able to prevent them from both crashing to the ground. George pulled her close to him and held her as she cried. The sudden appearance of as close to a family member as she had left in the country mixed with the lingering emotions from the evening before, came out of Hermione as a flood. She vaguely recognized an additional set of arms that came around her as belonging to Angelina Johnson. The three of them stood in the middle of her bedroom for several minutes before ending the embrace.

"What are you doing here, George?"

"Angelina and I stop by every few weeks to check in with Lucius," he explained. "Let him know what we have been up to. If you're here any length of time you will have to get used to random people popping in and out."

"If they are as welcome as the two of you are, then I will not have a problem with that."

Angelina sat down on the edge of the bed and George and Hermione followed her lead. It was so good to see George that Hermione was afraid she would burst into tears again. The past couple of days had been entirely too emotional for her logical mind.

"It's so wonderful to see you again, Hermione," Angelina said, breaking the tense silence that fell around them. "We've been so worried about you. When we got Neville's message that you had been found, we knew we had to come here as soon as possible."

"Neville knows?"

"You will learn quickly that there is a vast network of rebels in this country and abroad, Hermione," George explained. "We are very organized and only getting better. Neville has become something of our figurehead with Kingsley as our leader. A bit like Harry and Dumbledore."

"Let us hope that their fates will be a bit kinder." She didn't know why she said that, but lately her tongue had been looser than she intended.

"Neville heard from Kingsley that you were found," Angelina continued. "He contacted us this morning to tell us where you were. He was so happy to hear you were safe and with Lucius."

How strange how much her life had changed in such a short period of time. Her loved ones were actually _pleased_ to hear she was currently shacking up with a former Death Eater who once tried to kill them. She was still having trouble believing what was happening to her in the past couple of days. Three days ago she was shivering inside a tent in the outskirts of Inverness starving and in fear for her life. Now she was tucked away in the vast Malfoy Manor sharing unreasonable amounts of wine with the master of the house while discussing dark and depressing aspects of their lives. It was going to take some time for her to get used to the idea and for her to actually believe what was happening.

"Kingsley said this would only be temporary," Hermione announced.

"Temporary can still be a long time, 'Mione," George replied. "This is the safest place for you to be right now."

"I want to do something to help."

"Of course you do, but you are too well known. For now, you need to lay low. The last thing any of us want is for you to be captured. I'm sure you are aware that You-Know-Who wants you captured alive," said Angelina. "You're the only Undesirable he has specifically requested not to be killed."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked.

"We aren't sure. We can certainly hazard a guess, but we are not positive," Angelina continued.

"Is it something to do with that Umbridge Home for Young Ladies?"

A non-verbal conversation passed between George and Angelina that Hermione did not miss. They both looked extremely uncomfortable with the mention of the Umbridge home. Was it because of the threat that Angelina could be sent there as well? Or was it something much worse that Hermione didn't understand?

"You are Muggleborn, Hermione," George explained, as if this was new information to her. "Muggleborn witches are not allowed in the Umbridge Home. The Muggleborn witches that have been arrested since the end of the war are still being sent to Azkaban."

"Why would the Dark Lord care whether or not I die or end up in Azkaban?"

"We don't think he actually intends you to go to Azkaban."

"What do you mean? What else could he intend if I'm supposed to be captured alive?"

Their eyes met each other's again and once more Hermione felt left out of a conversation. She had always hated when two people in love were able to communicate non-verbally. Part of it was jealousy that she had never had anyone with whom she could communicate that way with and part of it was just the simple dislike of being left out. She wanted to know what they were thinking. What had they heard in their travels? What could possibly be worse than Azkaban, Umbridge or death? She physically shook her head in an effort to banish all of the negative thoughts that were plaguing her mind.

"Lucius is going to find out for us," said George. "He has been slowly working to regain some of the trust of the Death Eaters and some of his former contacts at the Ministry."

"Why would he risk that?" She was suddenly concerned for Lucius' safety. Being a spy ruined Professor Snape's life. She didn't want Lucius to go down that path as well. He had already suffered enough for a single lifetime.

"We need someone on the inside, 'Mione. Lucius has offered his services. It's going to take some time but he's already making some strides."

"What exactly are you two doing anyway? Why are you Undesirable No 4? What have you been doing?"

"Probably the most important work we've done so far is get vulnerable people out of the country. We have several friends in other countries coordinating the extraction. We've got Seamus and Dean in Ireland. They've been a tremendous help. They are usually the first stop after getting them out of here. As of right now, we've been able to get most of the parents and siblings of the rest of the D.A. out. They've been targets since the beginning. Unfortunately we weren't able to get Alicia's or Susan's parents out in time before they were chucked in Azkaban."

"Were they the ones protesting what was happening to their daughters?"

"They weren't the only ones. Simply the first." George sighed before continuing. "Susan's parents hoped they could use her late aunt's influence at the Ministry for an early release like Marietta Edgecombe's mother was able to get for her. Only made it worse. Amelia Bones wasn't the most well-liked of officials. Now Susan can't get paroled unless she somehow manages to have fifteen children and her parents are locked up in Azkaban indefinitely. Alicia's mum and dad were thrown in prison without even a farce of a trial to prevent any additional undesired publicity."

Hermione wanted to cry, but she wasn't sure she had anything left in her to cry. So much tragedy. Would it ever end?

"We also have the Patil twins in India," Angelina picked up where George left off. "They've been hiding some of the families too. And then we were able to find Justin Finch-Fletchley and get him to Australia with Dennis Creevey. They've been working together to run the operations from there. Lee Jordan is in charge of our US base."

"Where? In Salem?"

"Not bloody likely," replied George. "The witches and wizards in Salem have allied themselves with You-Know-Who. The Americans are even more vehement about their pureblood nonsense than anyone in this country. If you cannot prove hundreds of years of magical heritage, you cannot be in Salem. There's still a great deal of residual anger towards Muggles in that part of the country because of their history. More than a little difficult to set up a base of operations in the middle of all of that. Lee is down in the southwestern part of the country. They are a little more open and willing to help."

"Where are your parents, Angelina? Are they safe?"

Angelina smiled warmly.

"They are with Lee. They are safe for now."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Hermione turned to George. He was trying to keep a positive face, but she could see the pain in his eyes that wasn't there in the past. Two brothers and his mother were dead. His father was in prison and the rest of his family were scattered across the world. She had overwhelming sadness fall over her. Hermione threw her arms back around George. He held her for several minutes working hard to maintain his composure.

"I am so sorry for your losses, George."

"Thank you, 'Mione, but they were your family too. Or at least we always considered you to be a part of us. Hoped even that one day you would finally make it official with my little brother."

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. There wasn't really anything they could say. Angelina rose from the bed to give them a little bit of privacy. When she returned to the bed, she was carrying a tray that Hermione hadn't noticed earlier. George released Hermione from the embrace and smiled his familiar Weasley grin.

"We forgot we were supposed to bring you breakfast," he said, taking the tray out of Angelina's grasp. "Lucius asked us to bring you something to eat. Said that it was important that you get back on a more regular feeding habit."

The tray held a simple and delicious smelling breakfast. Her stomach started to growl again. Maybe today she might actually be able to finish more than a few bites without getting sick. She also thought it would be a good idea to get something in her stomach after all of the wine she'd imbibed the night before.

"He also asked that I give you this."

George pulled a vial of clearly marked "Hangover Potion" from his jacket pocket with a raised eyebrow. She blushed crimson and took it from his hand. Without an explanation she swallowed the entire potion in one go. Immediately the pounding ache in her head began to subside and slowly she began to feel human again. The nausea also began to diminish as she filled her stomach with eggs and toast.

"Hermione, as your unofficial big brother I feel it is my duty to ask why you would need a hangover potion," George said with another raise of his eyebrows and what she assumed was mock irritation. "We noticed Lucius looking a little worse for wear downstairs earlier. "

"George, leave her alone," Angelina snapped, but her boyfriend was not deterred.

"Were you getting drunk last night with Lucius Malfoy?"

"It was an accident. A glass of wine led to several. We were talking last night."

"Be careful, 'Mione. Lucius is still a man and you are no longer a child."

"George!" She couldn't believe how personal he was getting. George had never gotten so involved in her private business before.

"Leave her be, George. She spent the last nine months on the run by herself. I'm sure she can handle a drunken wizard on her own."

Hermione appreciated Angelina coming to her defense. She wanted to change the subject. George's concern for her was sweet, but misplaced. She could handle herself around Lucius. He no longer frightened her and she now knew she could trust him.

"Kingsley said that you have been giving the Ministry a headache," Hermione stated. "What else have you been up to?"

"Mostly reconnaissance work," answered Angelina. "We've been trying to figure out a way to infiltrate and raid the Umbridge Home. You can understand why."

"Of course. I'm glad to hear that is being thought of."

"It's despicable what they are doing there," added George. "It isn't just D.A. members anymore. Any young witch who has even been _suspected_ of 'seditious acts' or 'rebellious activities' are placed in there without even a trial. Some girls have been sent there simply because of who their parents are and not because of anything they've done themselves."

"How many witches are in there?"

"We don't really know specifics, but we estimate at least a hundred at this point. People are getting arrested left and right, 'Mione. It's dangerous out there."

"We've been searching for an operative within the home," Angelina explained. "It's been difficult. They are constantly changing the staff around. We assume it's because they have trouble finding enough sociopaths and sadists to fill all the available job openings.

"We have one man who is able to enter the home. He's been working within with some of the prisoners to find out the exact numbers, how it's organized, layouts, etc. We've gotten a little information from him, but's hard. As you can imagine the Ministry is very secretive about what's going on in there.

"Official reports claim the babies are conceived through artificial, sterile means, but it doesn't take a genius standing outside the gates for five minutes to figure out the high-ranking Ministry officials and the known Death Eaters who frequent the place aren't there for routine inspections."

Angelina covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. _So the news of what was really going on there_ doesn't _get easier with time._ George pulled her close to his chest, rubbed her back and whispered soothing words. Hermione did not even need to wonder what she was so upset about. Her two best friends and fellow Gryffindor chasers where locked up in that hellhole being subjected to rapes and the gods only knew what else. It was also the same fate that awaited Angelina if her luck ran out and she was caught. At least Hermione had the benefit of not knowing exactly what would happen to her if caught. Angelina knew without a shadow of a doubt.

"We are going to get them out, Angie. I promise you that." George kissed her on the top of the head and for the time being at least she was all right.

"Damn that woman!" Hermione hissed. "I should've killed her in the Forbidden Forest when I had the chance fifth year. Maybe I would be dead too or locked up in Azkaban, but at least the _home_ wouldn't exist."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. None of them knew what to say. An ache in Hermione's head began to bother her again, but she was certain this time it had nothing to do with the countless glasses of wine she shared with Lucius the night before. Umbridge had hurt too many people in her miserable existence. From Harry to poor Remus to all of the Muggle-born witches and wizards out there in prison or in hiding to the poor girls locked up to be used as magical brood mares. She would get her just deserts one day. Hermione only prayed that she could be there when it happened.

"About what I said earlier, Hermione," George broke the silence with a serious tone. "I meant what I said about being careful with Lucius."

"George, leave her alone," Angelina begged.

"No. Hermione is family, Angie. I have a right to express my concerns. Lucius is on our side now, but I haven't forgotten what he has done to my family in the past, especially Ginny. We have all changed but the core of who we are cannot be irrevocably altered. Whatever was within him to make him turn out to be a pureblood supremacist with homicidal tendencies is still in there, 'Mione."

"I think you're wrong," she replied defiantly.

"I sincerely hope I am," he continued. "I'm just afraid that I don't believe I am."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the discussion. Hermione beckoned the person on the other side of the door to enter and a rather stricken Lucius Malfoy walked into the room. The way he sought out her eyes made Hermione wonder if he'd heard what they were saying about him just then. She sincerely hoped not. A different man was introduced to her the previous night, a broken, changed man. Yes, he could still put on a good show of being his old self as he proved the night he held her close to him in the Muggle's back garden, but she knew that wasn't who he was anymore. There had been a shifting in her perceptions. She was certain she would defend Lucius Malfoy with her dying breath if it came down to it.

"Good morning, Lucius." She greeted him warmly with a bright smile.

Lucius smiled back at her. Their exchange did not go unnoticed by George. Angelina placed a reassuring hand on his arm to steady him. To his credit, George didn't say another word about his concerns.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked. The bags under his eyes concerned her. She wondered how late he remained in his study the night before. Had he even gone to bed?

"My sleep was… satisfactory."

She didn't believe him, but didn't wish to harangue him in front of their guests. Hermione rose from the bed and carried the almost empty tray to her desk. George and Angelina stood up from the bed as well. For a moment no one seemed quite sure what to say. Angelina looked around at the other three occupants in the room before breaking the silence with the first thought that came to mind.

"Thank you for allowing us to come visit Hermione, Mr. Malfoy. We were both anxious to make certain she was all right."

"Of course, Miss Johnson," he replied. "I hope your visit has been pleasant."

"Yes, thank you. Very pleasant."

Hermione could've laughed out loud at the awkward exchange. It didn't take the 'brightest witch of her age' to tell that Lucius wanted his visitors out of his house almost as much as the visitors wished to be out of it. Angelina gave Hermione a quick, warm hug and silently urged George to do the same. George held her a little longer and a little tighter.

"I meant what I said, 'Mione," he whispered into her unruly hair. "Be careful. If you get frightened or want to leave, send your patronus to Kingsley or to me. We will drop whatever we are doing and be here in a second."

"Thank you, George. I will remember that."

George nodded curtly to Lucius and assured the older wizard that they would be able to find their own way out of the manor. Only a few moments passed before Hermione was once again alone with Lucius in her bedroom. He seemed relieved when the others left. She knew what a prejudice he had always had against the Weasley family and understood the effort it took to keep from being ghastly to one of its members.

"I have something I wish to discuss with you," Lucius announced, his tone oddly formal after their previous discussion the night before.

"All right. Do you mind terribly if I take a shower and get dressed first?" She was feeling self-conscious after being encased in his personal pajamas for over twenty four hours.

"Certainly. I will be downstairs in the study."

Lucius turned on his heel and headed out the door without another word. Hermione didn't wish to keep him waiting too long. She was curious what he wanted to discuss with her, so she reverted back to her efficient shower. After finding a cozy green sweater and a pair of jeans in her beaded bag, she headed downstairs with her hair still wet.

She was greeted at the door by a wary deerhound. One of the dogs, she couldn't tell which, wouldn't allow her to enter until they had sufficiently smelled every inch of her body that it could reach. Satisfied that Hermione wasn't either an enemy or a potential snack, the dog moved back to the rug in front of the fireplace to take the next of many naps it had planned for the day. Lucius looked up from the large tome he had been reading to greet her with a hesitant smile.

"I'm sorry for my wet hair," she said as she settled down on the sofa next to him. "Ordinarily I would use my wand to charm it or a blow dryer to dry it, but I seem to be fresh out of both."

"While I cannot begin to fathom what a _blow dryer_ is, I can at least help you with part of that."

Lucius reached behind the sofa to where a long, thin box was laying. Hermione seized it greedily from his hands. She had an excellent idea of what was inside. The words "Cherry, Dragon heartstring, 12 3/8" were embossed on the outside. Indeed once she opened the box there was a beautifully etched wand. In her excitement of finally having a replacement wand, she threw her arms around Lucius' neck to hug him. Her reaction caught him completely off guard but it didn't take him long to recover enough to return the embrace before she released him after a few seconds.

"Where on earth did you get this, Lucius?"

"Ollivander created it especially for you," he explained.

"What? For me? How?"

"After I broke Bellatrix's wand the other evening, I knew that you would require a replacement. We could not exactly take a trip to Diagon Alley to pick one out, so I sent him a message when I returned to the manor. He made quick work of it too. Just arrived this morning by owl."

"But how did you get one from him? I assumed…"

"Assumed that after his rather lengthy _visit_ to my home in recent years that he would not be willing to help?"

"Well… yes."

Lucius smirked.

"While I may not be Garrick's favorite wizard, he did not become a successful businessman by refusing service to those with a few galleons to spread around. Besides, when I told him the wand was for you, all hesitation left him and he made one in record time."

"But if he knew it was for me wouldn't he be required to put a trace on it by the Ministry?" She longed to try out the new wand, but her fear prevented her.

"Yes, he would be required to _if_ the Ministry knew."

She suddenly remembered the message that Lucius gave Kingsley the morning of her arrival over breakfast. _"Garrick requested I send you his way as soon as possible. He has a package for you to pick up."_

"Mr. Ollivander has been helping the resistance."

"Yes, Hermione. He has provided the Ministry with the information to place traces on the wands of all of the Undesirables and of several other resistance members, but he has also made untraceable wands for them as well. Did you not wonder how Kingsley was able to use magic to find you the other night without fear of being traced?"

"I honestly hadn't thought about it. I was so overwhelmed just to see him again that I'm fairly certain I forgot what you told me earlier in the evening."

"Garrick was happy to hear that you have been found. I fear, like so many others, he was afraid that something had happened to you and there had been no fanfare."

Hermione took the new wand out of its box. Immediately she felt the familiar surge of energy rush up her arm. This had been the same feeling she experienced when she was eleven years old picking out her first wand before heading off the Hogwarts. While it was certainly possible to perform magic with someone else's wand, there was an undeniable perfection to magic when it is created with a wand that was made specifically for you.

"It is wonderful, Lucius," she whispered, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

He carefully took her free hand in his and squeezed it. She smiled at him again, not releasing the contact. Strange how they had become so close to each other in such a short period of time, she thought. Maybe it was the close quarters. Maybe it was him saving her life. Or maybe they were both so eager for human companionship that they clung to each other due to lack of any other option. Hermione wasn't sure what the connection was, but she was thankful again to not be alone.

"I could not very well leave you unprotected. I may not always be with you when danger is around."

"Thank you."

Hermione immediately set out to testing her new wand's magic. She had books and parchments flying all over the study in seconds. One of the dogs was levitated so carefully in the air that it didn't even wake up from its slumber. She placed the dog gently back to the ground before turning back to Lucius to smile again. He had made her very happy that morning.

"I also wanted to discuss with you the new security protections I have placed around the manor," he said, returning the smirk. "The only way to enter the grounds is through the front gates. I have placed wards around the estate to prevent any Apparation, portkeys or even broomstick travel. If someone other than you or I approaches the gates, there will be an alarm that sounds in the house."

"All right. Alarm, good."

"I have timed it so that if the alarm sounds we have plenty of time for you to take the polyjuice potion and transform. You should get in the habit of carrying a vial of it with you everywhere you go, even in the bath. I premixed the potion with some of Isla's hair so you need not worry about adding her essence. Just be certain that you use it sparingly. If we have visitors you may need to drink several doses of it while they are here."

"It's all right. I understand the potion. Brewed it my second year so Harry, Ron and I could infiltrate the Slytherin common room and interrogate your son about the Chamber of Secrets."

Lucius raised a single eyebrow at the confession that came tumbling out of her mouth.

"Impish girl."

There was no malice in his comment. He was noticeably impressed. Hermione merely laughed. She left out the part of her accidentally transforming herself into a giant cat however. There was no reason to divulge all of the details.

* * *

Several days passed where they created a rhythm and routine of living together in the manor. Each morning she would wake up early to shower or bathe as she desired. Then she would meet Lucius down in the kitchen where he usually had breakfast ready. He continually insisted that she develop a regular eating pattern to bring her body back to its optimum health. They usually spent the mornings exploring the grounds, Hermione properly disguised of course, with the dogs. Lucius always seemed a bit uncomfortable with her in her disguised state and never could hide his pleasure when she was finally inside and returned to Hermione Granger. Afternoons were spent entirely in the study with one of Lucius' many books propped up in her lap as he left her alone in the manor to attend to various business meetings and errands outside in the real world. He usually returned before dinner to find her curled up on the sofa completely and blissfully asleep. They assisted each other in the kitchen for dinner each night and spent the time after dinner back in the study with a nightcap and a usually lively discussion of all manner of topics.

They were enjoying each other's company immensely. Their months of mutual loneliness were almost forgotten. Certainly there were times that Hermione was able to forget to be afraid. On the two hundred and eighty sixth day following the Battle of Hogwarts and the fourteenth day of Hermione's sojourn in the manor, their peaceful cocoon was breached for the first time by unwelcome visitors. After a lovely dinner and at least two glasses of wine, the alarm sounded announcing arrivals.

"Quickly, Hermione! The polyjuice."

She slugged back a liberal swallow of the potion and waited for the transformation to complete. Lucius urged her to remain where she was until he came for her. She stared at her unfamiliar reflection in the mirror above the fireplace desperately trying to remember everything that she had read about Isla Black-Fawley. She was terrified that she wouldn't be able to pull off the deception. As the front door opened, she could barely hear Lucius's voice raised in greeting.

"Rabastan! Antonin! What a pleasant surprise. Please come on inside."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Hermione had to remind herself to breathe. Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange were outside the room she was in. Why were they there? Did they know she was there? Did Ollivander put a trace on her wand and lie about it? Every worst case scenario she could dream up rushed through her head. She was certain that her presence in the manor was widely known and her death was imminent.

"It has been a long time since we took advantage of your extensive wine cellar, Lucius," Rabastan replied, only a hint of joke present in his voice.

"You are always welcome, of course," Lucius retorted.

"He's lying to you, Lucius," added Antonin, his displeasure with his former comrade in arms still very evident. "He heard Arcturus' Black's daughter was staying with you."

Hermione's stomach dropped but she felt a tiny bit of relief knowing that at least they weren't there looking for Hermione Granger.

"I believe his exact words were," Antonin continued. "'Let's go find out if she is as shagable as her mother always was.'"

"Antonin, you shame me!" countered Rabasaton with no hint of shame anywhere in his voice.

The two visiting wizards laughed, but Hermione was certain Lucius was only smirking politely. She wondered how anyone knew he had a guest in the manor. She desperately wanted to talk to Lucius but had promised him she would remain in the study until he came for her.

"If you two will make your way to the drawing room, I will go down into the cellar and make a selection."

"Where is Miss Black?" Rabastan asked. "It would be rude of us to drop in and not make her acquaintance."

"She is up in her room having a lie down after dinner…"

"Lucius, you dirty old man!" Rabastan chuckled.

"I will go upstairs and request that she joins us in a little while."

Hermione could hear the echoing footsteps out of the main reception hall as the two Death Eaters made their way towards the drawing room. After a minute or so the door to the study swung open to admit Lucius. He crossed the room to grab both of her shoulders in his hands. She could tell that he was trying to remain calm for her sake, but his eyes belied the panic he truly felt.

"Why did they know someone was staying with you, Lucius?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"I was shopping the other day when I saw several of my former _comrades_. They wanted to know why I was buying so much food just for myself. I told them I was expecting my goddaughter to visit in a few days. Must have gotten back to Rabastan. He always had something of a _thing_ for Isla's mother and was angry when she rebuffed his advances after her first husband died."

"Do I really have to go in there?" She was begging him with her eyes to tell her 'no'.

"Only for a few minutes, I promise. One glass of wine and then you can make your excuses."

"I don't think I can do this, Lucius," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Lucius rubbed the outside of each of her shoulders with his hands to calm her down.

"You will be fine," he assured her. "Antonin does not talk much. Rabastan talks too much. Beyond a few impertinent questions you should expect from Lestrange, you will not be expected to contribute much to the conversation."

Sensing his reassurances were not helping the young witch to calm down, Lucius pulled her close to him in a comforting embrace. Hermione wrapped her arms around the man and tried to steady her breathing. She was well on her way to having a full blown panic attack. Lucius ran his hands across her back finally dropping his right one to rest on her bum. Startled by the over familiarity of the gesture, Hermione gasped and pushed back on Lucius' chest. He didn't release her and his grip on her derriere only increased. His second hand dropped to the other cheek. Hermione gasped again and looked up into Lucius' face. He had a smirk on his lips and his grey eyes were twinkling with the promise of a laugh. In the midst of her indignation, he raised a single eyebrow at her and Hermione couldn't keep her own chuckle from escaping.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy!" she teased, playfully swatting his chest.

Lucius released her immediately.

"Undoubtedly," he replied. "But I did just get you to calm down, did I not?"

She couldn't argue with him. The sheer panic that had been building up inside of her since the moment their visitors arrived and set off the alarms began to dissipate. She _was_ calmer.

"Don't expect to be able to pull a stunt like that again, Lucius Malfoy," she warned.

"I would not dream of it…"

"Good."

"At least not until you looked like yourself again."

His words hung in the air like a promise and Hermione had not a clue how to respond. She could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment or nerves or another feeling entirely. She wasn't sure which. Lucius waved his wand in the air and a smoky clock appeared. It was a timer with only twenty minutes. The timer was not moving yet.

"Stay here until the clock runs out. Calm yourself. Collect yourself. When the timer runs out, meet us in the drawing room."

She had been able to avoid the room where her torture had taken place since her stay had begun. Sensing her averseness, Lucius gave her a small smile.

"I am sorry that it is that room," he said. "I know your reluctance."

"I will be fine," she assured him.

Lucius waved his wand again and the smoky numbers began to count down. He slipped out of the room to head towards the vast cellar he had been promising to show her the past few days. When the door clicked shut, Hermione gave herself exactly ten seconds to panic. At the end of those ten seconds, she drew herself up and viewed her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace again. Isla's hair was a great deal more manageable than her own so there wasn't much needed to get herself looking presentable. She was pleased that she'd made a little extra effort in dressing for dinner that night. The navy blue wrap dress she wore flattered her true figure, but on Isla's fuller figure, it clung to her curves in a much more attractive way. This was the body of a grown woman. She smoothed out the infinitesimal wrinkles accumulated during dinner and the two enjoyable glasses of wine she'd shared with Lucius afterwards.

Twenty minutes passed before she was ready. Strange how normally watching a clock tick down makes time seem to last forever and this timer ended too quickly. Hermione would've rather done just about anything than cross the entrance hall to the large oak door of the drawing room. She wanted to stay hidden in Lucius' sanctuary that had quickly become hers as well over the previous two weeks, but she had promised her host she would make an appearance. She was not going to disappoint Lucius after all he had already done for her. It would be bad manners and he deserved more than that from her.

Her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as she crossed the entrance hall. Her shoes clicked on the marble even when she slowed her steps. The door to the room that held so much pain for her loomed ahead. She could hear masculine voices on the inside engaged in a lively, but friendly discussion though no specific words made any sense to her. When she finally reached the door, Hermione took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing it open.

 _You can do this, Hermione. You rode on the back of a freaking dragon! This is nothing._

Three distinctively different male figures rose from their seats the moment she entered the room. Their politeness struck her as odd considering the last time she stood in the same room with these three men they were all attempting to curse her and her friends. Lucius graced her with a warm smile and she almost found herself feeling at ease. Antonin Dolohov, every bit as dark and large as she remembered him, curtly nodded in her direction upon making eye contact. She could feel Rabastan Lestrange's eyes moving up and down her entire body in a poorly disguised leer. He must have seen something he liked because he crossed the room immediately to extend one of his long, thin arms in greeting. His sickening smile gave her the impression that he was imagining her naked.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Black," Rabastan greeted. "I was an old friend of your late father's. Rabastan Lestrange."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lestrange."

"No need for such formality, my dear. We are all friends here. Please call me Rabastan."

She wanted to pull her hand from his clammy hands, but wasn't sure how to do so politely. Rabastan continued to hold her hand and surreptitiously look down the front of her dress until Lucius crossed to save her. He gently took her elbow and led her to the armchair closest to the one he had just vacated. Once she was seated after being introduced to Dolohov and a glass of wine was in her hand, the three wizards returned to their seats.

"How long will you be graced with such a beautiful houseguest?" Rabastan asked the moment they all took their seats.

Lucius caught Hermione's eye and smirked. It wasn't the warm smile she had come to associate with his countenance over the past couple of weeks. He had reverted back to the old Lucius Malfoy she had known and despised. He was playing a part every much as she was.

"Indefinitely," Lucius replied. "Isla's mother sent her here to attempt to polish off the sharp edges acquired by an American education."

"Perfectly understandable," Rabastan added. "Ghastly country with a ghastly educational system. I would never allow my child to be educated in such a place."

Hermione dropped her eyes to stare intently at her wine glass. She had done a great deal of research in the past regarding the many magical schools available in the United States and found she could not agree with Rabastan completely. Certainly there were schools on the west coast that were a little too "earth magic" oriented and there were several in the southern states that focused almost entirely on dark magics, but she found a few fascinating. Certainly the Salem Institute had an excellent reputation if you could prove your blood status beyond a shadow of a doubt and there was a wonderfully small academy in the mountains of Montana that sounded amazing. Hermione took a sip of her wine to prevent speaking her opinion. Somehow she knew this was not the crowd to care what she thought.

"Did you attend the Salem Institute?" Antonin asked. "I have a distant cousin who is an instructor there."

"No, I didn't," she answered, careful not to choke on her wine. "I attended a small, all-girls school in New Orleans."

Antonin nodded his head sharply.

"I approve of witches and wizards being separated. Keeps their minds focused on what is important."

Rabastan and Lucius laughed in response.

"I could not disagree with you more, my friend," chuckled Rabastan. "Some of my best memories from school involved members of the fairer sex."

"Mine too," added Lucius.

"The years you spend in school should be spent focusing on learning. There is plenty of time once you've left school to think about relationships with the opposite sex."

Lucius and Rabastan continued to laugh at their associate.

"You must have been fun to be around in school, Antonin," said Rabastan. "Too bad Lucius and I were just a little bit younger than you or you could've been a better influence on us. I might've gotten a few more N.E.W.T.s if I hadn't been so distracted by pretty witches."

"What do you think, Miss Black? Did you prefer an all-girls school or would you have preferred to learn in an environment with hormonal wizards?" Antonin asked, surprising Hermione. She'd hoped to contribute as little as possible to the discussion and run out of the room at the first opportunity.

"I was very focused on my studies. I'm not sure if having wizards there would have made much of a difference to me."

It was Hermione's truth even if it might not have been Isla's truth. Antonin seemed satisfied with her answer. The other two men simply smirked at her response. Rabastan waited a moment before bursting out laughing.

"So you aren't just like your mother after all, are you?" he snickered. "Your mother, I seem to remember, was a great deal more interested in the opposite sex than her studies."

"Isla may look like her mother, Rabastan, but you will find in temperament she is more like her late father," Lucius explained.

"Then it sounds as if you got the best of both worlds, Miss Black."

Hermione smiled politely and took another sip of her wine. She could already feel the effects of the alcohol in her system. Her head was feeling lighter and her limbs heavier. She could feel her eyes struggle to stay open. Fear and alcohol makes one very sleepy.

"Well, I for one, am glad you are staying with your godfather," Rabastan continued, raising his glass to her in a mock toast. "I've been concerned about Lucius rambling alone in this big, old house. Perhaps knowing how pleasant the company and delicious the wine is, we will make more of a habit to visit."

"You are, of course, always welcome," Lucius replied.

"Excellent. Antonin could certainly use the distraction, couldn't you?"

Antonin narrowed his eyes at Rabastan and emptied his wine glass with a single swill. Lucius promptly rose to refill the glass for his guest. Hermione was impressed by how calm Lucius seemed. Surely he was every bit as nervous as she was. Years of experience helped him keep up a serene, unworried façade. Hermione hoped she lived long enough to develop those skills.

"Please forgive my friend here, Miss Black," Rabastan continued. "He has been in a foul mood for weeks now."

"I do hate to hear that, Antonin," Lucius said, his insincerity evident in his voice.

"Shut up, Lucius," Antonin snapped.

"Dear, dear, your manners have always needed a little bit of work, Antonin, but you are positively nasty this evening," Lucius continued. "I wonder what could possibly put you in such a sour mood."

"You know exactly why, Lucius! Don't pretend you weren't there."

Hermione swallowed the rest of her wine as quickly as possible. She wanted to leave immediately. A quick glance at the clock on the fireplace mantle showed that her hour as Isla was almost up. She'd hoped to not have to take another dose of polyjuice but it looked like she had no choice. She caught Lucius' eyes across the room. He rose from his seat and began filling her glass up again.

"With all of this excitement, it appears you will require another dose… of wine," he said.

As he poured more wine into her glass, Lucius stood his large frame in front of her to block the other two wizards' view of her. She slipped the potion vial out of her pocket and took a quick swallow without anyone noticing. Lucius returned to his chair when he was convinced she would be properly disguised for another hour. Hermione began to nurse her fourth glass of wine that evening.

"Please excuse my friend, Miss Black," Rabastan apologized once more. "He recently was quite close to catching an Undesirable and let her escape through his fingers. He has, understandably, been impossible to live with since."

"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Dolohov," Hermione said feeling her mouth go dry with anxiety.

Antonin hardly acknowledged Hermione. He sipped more wine and stared off into the flames of the fireplace.

"Buggering shame they didn't catch that Mudblood too," Rabastan said. "Excuse my language, Miss Black."

"Indeed," Lucius replied, his eyes locked onto Hermione. She looked up from her glass and held his gaze for a few seconds before finding the hearth rug intensely fascinating.

"Would've been a good boost to morale," Rabastan continued. "Several of us attempted to get Antonin to visit the Umbridge girls with us, but he is only interested in one witch at the moment."

The wine glass slipped from Hermione's trembling hands and crashed to the floor. Wine and shards of glass scattered all over the seating area. She jumped up from her seat, pulled out her new wand and tried to repair the mess with a quick couple of spells. Her quivering hand would not cooperate. Lucius placed a comforting hand on her forearm and cleared the mess with a single wave of his free hand.

"Shameful waste of a good vintage," Rabastan tutted.

"I am very sorry," Hermione answered, willing herself not to cry the tears that were creeping up in the corner of her eyes. "I must be more tired than I thought."

"No reason to be sorry, Miss Black," Rabastan assured her. "It was my fault. Should've known better than to mention the Umbridge Home in front of a young lady. I forgot myself for a moment."

"Isla, dear, perhaps you should go on up to bed," Lucius suggested.

"Yes, of course. It was wonderful to meet you both, Mr. Lestrange. Mr. Dolohov."

The two Death Eaters rose from their chairs and wished her a good night. Antonin gave her another curt nod. Rabastan kissed both of her cheeks and promised to visit again soon. Hermione was afraid she would be sick. Lucius led Hermione over to a bookshelf by the fireplace. With a push of the shelf a hidden staircase was revealed.

"Take this shortcut," he whispered. "It will get you to your room faster. Lock your door."

She hardly had the chance to say 'thank you' before the bookshelf shut behind Lucius leaving her in the darkness. Her legs wobbled and she landed hard on her arse hitting a sharp stair on her landing. She covered her mouth to prevent herself from crying out.

"I would appreciate you not mentioning that place in front of my goddaughter," Lucius snapped.

His voice sounded amplified in the hidden stairwell. Partially out of shock and curiosity, Hermione remained seated on the bottom stair.

"I am truly sorry, Lucius. It simply slipped out," Rabastan responded.

"You are aware, no doubt," added Antonin. "That the Umbridge Home is being used to terrify young witches into proper behavior, Rabastan."

"Well, I…"

"There was no cause to frighten the poor girl," Antonin continued. "And you say my manners are poor, Lucius!"

Rabastan continued to attempt contrition for his slip up. After a minute or two the other wizards ceased to reprimand Lestrange and a new topic was suggested. Rabastan did not take the hint.

"You should come with us some time, Lucius," he suggested.

"Where?" Lucius' voice was dangerously low.

"To the Umbridge Home. Every day new girls are brought in."

"I am not interested."

"Oh come on, Lucius. Where is your sense of fun? These girls are so desperate they will do anything you ask if you just promise you will try to get them out."

Hermione covered her mouth again to prevent her gasp from being heard in the drawing room. If she could hear them as clearly as she was, she was certain they could hear just as clearly. She didn't want to know what was going on inside Umbridge's prison, but she couldn't stop listening.

"There are some that are a lot of fun."

"It seems that your idea of 'fun' is quite a bit different than mine," Lucius said, his voice still low. "I prefer my assignations not be with terrified teenagers desperate to get out of prison. That reeks of sadism, Rabastan."

Lestrange simply laughed. Hermione felt bile begin the slow rise up her esophagus to the back of her throat. This was a disgusting man who was a disgrace to wizarding kind. He deserved his lifetime sentence in Azkaban. If he could take advantage of these poor women, what else was he capable of?

"You could always pick a favorite, of course," Rabastan explained.

"Excuse me? A favorite?"

"Yes, several of the girls are spoken for. Meaning they have someone powerful who has claimed their attentions exclusively. I have one. Sweet young Chinese thing. Pretty as can be, but cries all the damn time. She's pregnant now, so I am looking for someone else now. They don't exactly encourage you to continue with the pregnant ones. If they are there to get pregnant, they would rather you keep to the ones not with child."

"I see."

"Even the Minister has his favorite, Lucius."

"You will forgive me if this does not sound like something I wish to spend my time doing."

"Don't get so high and mighty, man!" Rabastan raised his voice. "I've seen your own son there more times than I can count."

The knowledge that Draco Malfoy was a frequent visitor to the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies was a shock to Hermione. While Lucius' son had never been her favorite person and they had spent years at odds, this did not sound like behavior that she had come to expect from him. Had torturing and murdering his own mother on the orders of Lord Voldemort warped him to such a degree that he was willingly spending his time raping unwilling girls locked up in prison?

"Draco is a grown wizard. I no longer have any control on what he chooses to do with his spare time."

"Your son even has a favorite," Rabastan explained, his voice a bit softer than it had been. "Not that anyone else wants her. He goes to visit her several times a week. I daresay you will soon find yourself a grandfather."

Lucius didn't say a word, but Hermione could imagine the expression he was making.

"Too bad you are not married or you could adopt your grandchild and raise it as your own. There is no way to know where it will end up otherwise."

"Rabastan, that's enough!" warned Antonin. "Remember whose home you are in."

"Only by the mercy of the Dark Lord does this house still belong to him."

Hermione wished she could see what was going on inside the drawing room. She could feel the tension. Sparks of magical energy were being released into the air. That kind of uncontrollable magic only happened when emotions were running high. Lucius had an enormous well of self-control, but even he had his limit. She desperately hoped he wasn't about to do something foolish that would get himself hurt. She relied on him and had gotten kind of fond of him as well.

"You should come with us some night, Lucius," Rabastan said once more, not taking the hint that Lucius was not interested. "It would do you some good. Release some of the tension that has no doubt been building up since your wife was executed. How long has it been since you had a good shag? Based on the look of your house guest, I'd say it has been a while."

She heard a glass shatter on the floor once again that evening. Unsure if it had been dropped or thrown, Hermione held her breath to hear everything she could. The room was quiet but for a few muttered curses and a hastily spoken 'reparo' spell to clean up the mess. After a minute or two, the voices began again with somewhat less heated emotion.

"The invitation, Lucius, is always open," said Rabastan.

"I will think about it."

"Now if only we could get Antonin here to come with us."

"I've told you repeatedly that I am not interested, Rabastan."

"Lucius, tell me what can we do to help this poor wizard? He has one witch on the brain and I daresay she is not providing him with any amount of pleasure."

"Rabastan…"

Antonin's tone was almost feral. The warning in it was explicit, but Rabastan either was too thick to catch it or simply did not care. Hermione felt goosebumps pop up all over her body. The hair on her arms began to stand. She was not sure if it was the residual magic still floating in the air from the brawl that almost happened next door or if it was something else entirely.

"Have you finally found a witch worthy of your affections, Antonin?" Lucius asked.

Antonin practically growled in displeasure at the question.

"His obsession with the Mudblood has gotten out of control, Lucius. He's determined to find her."

"Granger?"

"Of course. Who else?"

Hermione was lightheaded and this time she knew it was fear and not alcohol. She wanted to know why Dolohov was obsessed with finding her. It couldn't have been the reward money. He did not seem the type to be bothered with ransoms.

"Why the obsession?" Lucius asked, his voice sounding casual.

"For his bravery in the Great and Victorious Battle, Antonin was allowed to make a request of the Dark Lord." Rabastan was obviously not scared of his associate's temper. He had been in Azkaban as well, after all.

"What an honor, Antonin."

"Indeed it was, Lucius," Rabastan continued. "Antonin requested the Mudblood."

Hermione finally understood what the saying 'when your blood runs cold' finally meant. Ice water flowed through her veins and she was certain her heart had stopped beating. No wonder Antonin Dolohov had been so insistent on finding her that evening in Inverness. She was his spoils of war. His prize for being a loyal Death Eater.

"Is that why she is always specifically requested to be caught alive?" Lucius asked. "I had often wondered why her death was not requested."

"Yes." Antonin finally opened his mouth to say something other than a savage snarl.

"A strange prize, no doubt. What do you plan to do with her when you finally catch her?"

"I have plans."

A silence fell over the drawing room. Hermione willed herself to go back up the stairs, but she couldn't move her legs. She was frozen in terror. There were a myriad of tortures that Dolohov could apply to her if caught. And she was now only fifteen feet away from him! If he only knew how close she was, it would be the end of her existence. Lucius would try to save her, she knew, but he would be outnumbered. She could finally understand the reasoning behind Kingsley leaving her in Malfoy Manor, but it did not make her want to run as far away from the crazed Death Eater on the other side of the bookshelf any less.

"Do you have any leads on her whereabouts?" Lucius was keeping a cool head about him.

"We haven't seen or heard anything about her since that night in Inverness," Antonin answered. "It's almost as if she just disappeared out of thin air. Couldn't have though. Runcorn had all of the necessary wards up to keep her in the city until they swept it."

 _Except for those two minutes when he lowered them for Lucius_. She hoped that no one would ever piece that part of the puzzle together. It would only be a matter of time before she was found at that rate.

"Someone must have been hiding her in the city. We couldn't find her. The Ministry searched for two solid days and found nothing. Not even a single magical footprint after Bellatrix's wand was snapped."

"Here is to the success of your continued search."

A few moments of silence passed. Hermione hardly dared breathe. She briefly wondered if Lucius would be upset to find out that she lingered, but then she reckoned that it was the exact same tactic he would take in her shoes. He had proven himself more than able to eavesdrop outside of doors to gather information. He couldn't blame her for doing something that he would do.

"We have heard a rumor that her parents are in Australia," Antonin announced.

Hermione's stomach dropped. She had been so careful. How could anyone know that?

"Indeed? Do you have any further leads?" Lucius was smooth. She had to hand it to him.

"I'm planning a trip to Australia in the next few days," Dolohov replied. "If she is there, I will find her."

Hermione could not bear to hear anymore. She removed her shoes from her feet and quietly padded up the stairs to the empty second floor. Remembering Lucius' words to her, she locked the door behind her and prepared to wait until the wizards were gone. They could be there all night, but there was simply no way she was going to be able to get a wink of sleep with them downstairs. A locked door can only do so much.

She settled herself in an armchair that she pushed up to one of the large windows overlooking the front gates to the manor. There was no fire in her room, but she did not mind. She sat in the darkness staring out at the gates. It could have been hours before she saw two dark figures make their way down the path to the front gates. She watched them exit the gates and turn to Apparate away. They were gone mere seconds before she heard a rap on her door.

"Hermione? Hermione, they have gone."

She traversed her beautiful bedroom to the ornate door leading to the corridor. Lucius tapped on the door again and whispered her name. She was tempted to keep the door shut, but knew if he was too worried about her, he would not hesitate to blast the door down with a spell. Her hands were strangely still as she reached the door and turned the lock. Lucius pushed the door open without waiting for an invitation.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes wide with concern and a healthy amount of fear.

"Why do you think Dolohov wants me?"

Her voice was hardly a whisper, but he heard every word. With a strangled sob in his throat, Lucius threw his arms around her and pulled her close to him for the second time that night. Hermione nestled her head onto his broad chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist again. They stood there for minutes, hours, days. She couldn't be sure. Time seemed to have no meaning.

"It does not matter what he wants with you," Lucius began. "I will never allow him to touch you again."

She believed him and cleaved to the hope that when the time came he might actually be able to carry through with his promise.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Rabastan Lestrange was relentless. He was determined to ingratiate himself into the haven that Hermione had found in Malfoy Manor. Since the first night that he arrived with Antonin Dolohov to intrude on her privacy, he had come almost daily. Hermione was exhausted with seeing the horrible man's face. He never stayed very long for which she was grateful, but even a single post-dinner glass of wine shared with that man made her skin crawl.

She had been at the manor for six weeks. The routine she established with Lucius in those first couple of weeks continued much the same in that time. Neither of them spoke about what Hermione overheard Antonin Dolohov say that horrible night after the one time in her bedroom. Neither of them wanted to revisit that evening. Hermione could sense Lucius was trying to keep her in a protected, almost naïve bubble. He did not share any information that he picked up when he went out for his daily afternoon business meetings or in his very occasional evening meetings. She did not press him for information either. There was too much opportunity for her to forget that she was still wanted by a crazed wizard if she neglected to press him for information.

"I have something for you," Lucius announced over dinner.

They still kept their intimate meetings in the kitchen. Hermione would not have wanted it any other way. When Lucius once suggested they take their meals in the more formal breakfast room, she declined immediately. She gave the excuse that since it was just the two of them there really was no need to dirty up another room in the vast manse, but she did not admit that the meals she shared with him at the plank table in the kitchen were the highlights of her day. The kitchen, especially when they were both preparing the meal, was their sanctuary within a sanctuary. They were completely themselves and Hermione knew she was allowed to see a very different version of the great and intimidating Lucius Malfoy that no one else in the world got to see. It still was strange to her how close of friends the two had become in her 'incarceration' within his ancestral home.

"Oh, yeah? What is it?"

"It is in the study. I found something today in Diagon Alley I thought you might like."

Hermione was flattered that he had been thinking of her earlier in the day. Sometimes he could be so nice and thoughtful that she could temporarily forget the person he had been in the past. They were almost done with the meal and she tried to clear up the dishes in such a way to not show him how anxious she was to know what he had brought her. Lucius watched her clean up the kitchen and laugh. He muttered a quick spell to finish her task for her.

"I was almost done, Lucius," she said when she noticed all of the dishes in the sink were suddenly clean again.

"If I know my little Gryffindor, she is anxious to know what I have for her," he teased.

They both fell silent at his words. Not once had he ever referred to her as anything so… endearing. Lucius cleared his throat and Hermione could see the barest hint of a blush on his usually stoic cheeks. Wanting to spare him the embarrassment she was certain he was feeling, Hermione playfully grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the kitchen. She didn't relinquish control on his person until they were both inside his study. By the time they made it down the long hallway to the front of the manor, Lucius was back to his usual self again.

Lucius led her over to his large desk. In the middle of the large piece of mahogany lay a beautifully wrapped package. She could tell immediately that it was a book and wanted to reach for it, but did not want to see greedy and rude. Lucius took the package in his hands. He led her back over to the sofa that had become such a comfortable refuge for them both in those trying times.

"What is it?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had given her a present. A year? Two years?

"Is patience not a virtue?" he asked, a teasing note in his tone.

He handed the exquisitely wrapped package over to her. She almost hated to open it, but knowing without a doubt there was a book inside that she knew she wanted to read and devour, Hermione ripped the paper off. When the tome was finally revealed in its entirety, she had to choke back a laugh. _Moste Potente Potions_.

"How did you find this?" she asked. "I thought this was out of print. Most editions are too frail to read."

"I stumbled upon a very well-kept used copy at Flourish and Blotts. It was likely overlooked."

"It is wonderful! Thank you so much, Lucius."

She ran her hands over the cover and couldn't wait to delve into it.

"You certainly know the way to a girl's heart." She blurted the words out without thinking. Roles were reversed from the moment in the kitchen. Her cheeks flushed crimson.

"I must remember that."

His response was hardly a whisper, but she caught every single syllable. Determined to stop blushing, Hermione opened the cover and began to explore the book she had been so familiar with in her second year. It was truly a gruesome book, but she was fascinated nonetheless.

"I thought you might want to study it like you did when you were a mischievous school girl. Perhaps brew some potion that would allow you to infiltrate my common room and interrogate me without my knowledge. Why should my son have all of the fun?"

Hermione looked up into his smirking face. He did seem to love to tease her.

"I believe this is the part, Miss Granger, where you say, 'You're disgusting, Malfoy'!"

Lucius gave her an unexpected wink. He laughed as her cheeks turned a frighteningly bright shade of red. Was it physically possible to die of embarrassment? Hermione was certain she was about to find out. Before she could think too much on what was happening between them any further, the alarms sounded.

"Damn!" Lucius hissed. "Damn that man!"

Hermione did not even have to ask who he was referring to. Rabastan Lestrange was not a wizard who could take a hint of when his presence was wanted or requested. He showed up regardless of invitation or personal feelings. Unfortunately, his visits had become almost as routine as their shared dinners in the kitchen. Hermione took the familiar vial of polyjuice potion out of her pocket and took a swig. Hopefully this would be one of those evenings he dropped in for a single glass of wine. She did not feel up to having to converse with the man for an entire evening.

Lucius met the wizard at the front door as he usually did with a false greeting of welcome. He was in actuality the least welcome person imaginable at the manor. Rabastan never seemed to catch on that Lucius was simply being polite and not even very much at that. Lestrange entered the study without invitation, sullying the peace and tranquility that Hermione usually found in there, to greet the young witch with his altogether too personal greeting. His double kisses on the cheeks had been expanded in recent weeks to include the lightest tap on Hermione's arse. She cringed when he touched her.

"I do hope I am not interrupting anything," Rabastan said eyeing the ripped wrapping paper on the sofa.

"Of course you aren't, Rabastan," Lucius assured him with his teeth clenched so tightly Hermione was certain she could hear the grinding across the room.

"Oh, is it someone's birthday? Miss Black?"

"No, Mr. Lestrange, just a thoughtful spur of the moment gift."

Rabastan peered down at the potions manual and sneered. Using only his forefinger and his thumb he flipped open the cover of the book. Immediately he closed it back.

"If this was an attempt at seduction, old man," he laughed, clapping Lucius on the back. "I fear you may have missed your mark."

Hermione stared into Lucius' fuming eyes, begging him silently to keep his composure. After a moment or two, she could see a visible reduction in his anger. Lucius took a deep breath and stretched his broad shoulders.

"Would you care for a glass of wine in the drawing room, Rabastan?" His usual high society host mask was back in place.

"No, 'fraid not. I cannot stay long."

"How disappointing."

"Not to worry, Lucius. You won't be getting rid of my company that easily," Rabastan laughed. "I've been sent to bring you to a gathering."

Hermione felt her stomach lurch. She met Lucius' eyes again, but this time she couldn't understand his expression.

"Your presence has been specifically requested this evening, Lucius," Rabastan continued. "And I have been sent to make sure that you appear."

"Where are you taking me?" His voice was calm, but Hermione was certain his insides were not.

"What would be the fun in me spoiling the surprise, old friend? I will meet you outside in one minute."

Rabastan kissed Hermione's cheeks again before leaving through the front door. She crossed the room to take Lucius' arm in her hands. He gently pulled his arm out of her hands and hugged her entire body close to his.

"Go to your bedroom and lock the door," he whispered. "Do not open it for anyone but me. If the alarms go off again, take more potion."

"Lucius…"

"If I am not back by breakfast send your patronus to Kingsley."

"Lucius…"

"Do you understand me?" His voice was calm, but he was insistent.

"Yes."

For the briefest of moments, Lucius' lips brushed the top of Hermione's hair. She almost missed the sensation. He gently pushed her from his arms and headed out the front door. Hermione ran as fast as she could up the staircase and into her room to try to catch a glimpse of the wizards before they disappeared into the night. She just barely made it in time. When she was certain that Lucius was not coming back in a few minutes, Hermione shut the bedroom door and locked it as she was told.

She prepared for the long wait ahead. Her mind rushed to all of the possible reasons why Lestrange would arrive with little warning and pull Lucius out of the house with him. What kind of summons was it? Was her protector kneeling before Lord Voldemort at this very moment? Was he being tortured or perhaps, worse? She couldn't bear to think about the unknown.

She tried to prepare herself for bed as she normally would, hoping that would keep her mind occupied for a little while. After a long, hot bubble bath where she tried unsuccessfully to relax and keep her breathing under some semblance of control, she dressed herself in the familiar pair of dark blue pajamas she had come to love. With her hair dripping behind her, she seated herself back in the armchair by the window and waited.

Hermione must have fallen asleep at some point in the night without even realizing. Her eyes opened abruptly. The moon was much higher in the sky and her roaring fire was almost completely burned out in the fireplace. She checked the clock on the desk she'd moved there days after her arrival. Three o'clock. Lucius had been gone six hours. Where was he?

She heard a loud crash downstairs that made her jump in such fright that she fell out of the chair. The alarms indicating that someone else approached the gates hadn't gone off. Surely Lucius would have come to her room to let her know he was all right if he was back already. She did not even stop to pull a robe on despite the draftiness of the old house. Without even thinking her actions through clearly, Hermione ran down the corridor and down the stairs.

The door to the study was cracked open. A sliver of light leaked out of the room into the entrance hall. Hermione rushed to the door, but stopped herself before pushing through to the room. She wasn't sure what made her hesitate. Another crash sounded inside the room. She thought it was the distinctive sound of a heavy glass being thrown against the stones in the fireplace. Hermione reached for the door once more. As her hand made contact with the heavy wood, she heard a sound that tore her heart in two.

Lucius was sobbing. Relieved at once that he was obviously alive, she felt sick listening to the otherwise resilient former Death Eater in such a private, tender moment. She peered through the crack in the door. An almost empty bottle of whiskey was on the table behind the sofa. Piles of glass in front of the fireplace showed that there had been many glasses sacrificed that night. Lucius was not aware of her presence. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, gulped it down in one swallow and threw the glass as hard as he could into the fireplace. The violence of the moment caused Hermione to jump.

She pushed the door open to admit herself into the room. Lucius looked up from the fire into her eyes. His own were red and watery and aching. She had never seen him so dejected before. Her innate curiosity was getting the better of herself. She rushed into the room, blew the shattered glass out of her way with a non-verbal spell and fell on her knees to the floor in front of him.

"Lucius, are you hurt?"

She ran her hands up and down his arms and legs, searching for some kind of physical wound that would explain his apparent pain. He was too tall for her to see his head from that position so she stood in front of him. As her hands moved through his long, silvery blond hair searching for blood or bruises, his arms gripped her waist. She wasn't expecting the interaction and if he hadn't had such a firm grip on her midsection, she was certain she would've tumbled over. He didn't answer her question. Simply held on to her for dear life.

After the initial shock of the grasp, Hermione began to run her fingers gently through his hair. He snuggled closer to her, laying his head on her breasts. She held him firmer to her body and found herself making the comforting shushing noises that mothers had been making for millennia. In that moment he was every bit as vulnerable and raw as a baby. Her pajama top was damp where his silent tears were still falling and his shoulders were still shaking. Hermione gently lowered her head to rest on top of his and ran her hands up and down his back. She held him for a long time; she couldn't be sure how much time passed.

"I am sorry."

His apology was a whisper into her bosom, but she heard it. She lifted her head as he lifted his own. When their eyes met, she tried to give him a warm smile. He released his hold on her waist and pushed himself backwards to the back of the sofa. Hermione wasn't sure if he wanted to be left alone. She stood over him for several seconds wondering what to do with herself before his right hand came up to gently urge her down to sit next to him. She allowed the silence to continue for several more minutes before she asked her question again.

"Lucius, are you hurt?"

"Physically I am fine."

"What happened?" She couldn't stop herself from asking the questions that had been plaguing her for hours. "Where did you go?"

"The Umbridge Home for Young Ladies."

Hermione was certain her heart stopped beating for a moment or two. He answered her question with a deep voice so devoid of any passion that she almost did not recognize it as belonging to him. She couldn't believe what she heard. Lucius would _never_ go to that horrid place! He was above such revolting behaviors. She might have believed it if she had not spent the past six weeks getting to know who he had become, but there was no way he was telling her the truth.

"I don't believe you!" The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I assure you, my dear, that it was _not_ my choice," he snapped back.

She immediately felt ashamed.

"Of course not. Of course it wasn't. Lucius, please tell me what happened."

Lucius reached behind the sofa and poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey. Hermione could tell he was past the point of being intoxicated. He was almost to the point of being blackout drunk. That fact did not seem to bother him. He downed the new glass with the same fervor he had earlier, but dropped the empty glass harmlessly to the floor instead of hurling it at the fireplace.

"Rabastan told me as we were walking down to the gates that my presence was requested at a gathering," he began to explain. "Naturally I assumed that this was something to do with the Dark Lord. I have not been in his presence in months, but I am not foolish enough to believe he has forgotten me.

"Rabastan forced me into Side-Along Apparation. He did not want me to know beforehand where we were headed. When we arrived in front of the home, I was afraid I was going to be sick."

* * *

" _Did you honestly think I was going to let you ignore another one of my invitations, old man?" Rabastan laughed. "Your absence has been noted."_

" _I thought I made myself perfectly clear the last time you invited me here that I was not interested, Rabastan." Lucius struggled to keep his voice cool. It would not do him any good to seem too passionate about his desire to not be where he currently was._

" _Indeed you have, but it has been decided that you should come regardless of your wishes."_

 _Rabastan headed towards the front door of the building. The Umbridge Home resembled a small office building more than a prison. It was the kind of building one would see on their way to somewhere else and never think twice about. Lucius counted three stories but he was sure there was likely a basement of some kind. There were two guards at the front door. All visitors were required to surrender their wands for the duration of their visit. The explanation was given when Lucius balked that the prisoners were all dangerous witches who were not above stealing another's wand._

 _Once inside the front door, Lucius could feel his stomach churning even more than it had been. He did not want to be there. This was the last place, even after Azkaban, that he wanted to be. The building was eerily quiet. The inside resembled a small hospital or clinic. Rabastan led him down the long hallway. All of the rooms on the ground floor appeared to be offices or other spaces. He had not yet seen a single prisoner._

 _At the end of the hallway there was a simple staircase. With his heart still in his throat, Lucius climbed the stairs slowly behind Rabastan. All the while they climbed Rabastan did not once shut his mouth._

" _The first floor is for the newest girls," he explained. "These are the ones that have just arrived and have yet to find themselves a sponsor."_

" _Sponsor?" He couldn't help himself. He was curious._

" _The ones without favorite visitors, of course. I explained this to you the night you almost hexed my head off my shoulders for speaking about this place in front of your goddaughter."_

 _Once they climbed the stairs to the first floor, Rabastan motioned for Lucius to follow him back up the stairs towards the second floor. Lucius tried to get a good look at the first floor before ascending. The hallway was clean and sterile just as a hospital usually is. There were countless doors up and down the hallway. All of them were closed. The lack of the sounds in what was undoubtedly a prison was disconcerting. He remembered almost perpetual screaming and sobbing during his stint in Azkaban. The lack of noise was somehow more unsettling than if he had to hear the hundred or so witches locked inside crying out at once._

 _The second floor looked almost identical to the first. Rabastan made a sharp turn once off the stairs to the west wing of the building. Again there was the absence of sound. Lucius wondered if all of the rooms were magically sound proof. That could be the only explanation. He could feel the fear and sadness permeating the walls. In the middle of the hallway a door suddenly opened._

" _Ahh, good evening, Pius," Rabastan greeted the Minister for Magic as he walked out of the room that Lucius could only imagine belonged to his favorite. Lucius tried to get a glimpse of the inside of the room but was only able to see a shock of dark brown hair before the door shut._

" _Good evening, Rabastan," Thicknesse replied. "Lucius, I don't believe I've ever seen you around here before."_

" _This is his first time," Rabastan explained._

" _Ahh, I see. Come to finally enjoy the spoils of war, eh, Lucius?"_

 _Rabastan and Pius Thicknesse laughed, but Lucius could only sneer at the two of them. He wanted out of this building as quickly as humanly possible. He could only imagine the plans that Rabastan had in store for him that night. Was he under orders from the Dark Lord to make sure that Lucius dirtied his own hands in this disgusting excuse for a prison? It was not an order he would put past the Dark Lord._

" _Gentlemen, have a pleasant evening," Pius said as he continued his walk back towards the staircase._

 _Rabastan ventured down further towards the very end of the hall. He stopped in front of a door that was marked '260'. There was no other indication on the door describing what or who Lucius might find inside._

" _I thought you would enjoy meeting the young woman who has been so busy keeping your son happy these past several months."_

 _If Lucius still had his wand in his hands, he would've cursed Rabastan. What could possibly make Lestrange think that he would want to visit the young witch his son had been defiling and possibly torturing for months? He had a sick sense of humor._

" _I have no desire to meet her."_

" _Oh, no, Lucius. You misunderstand me. I didn't bring you here to_ meet _her. I brought you here to_ fuck _her."_

 _The roast and potatoes that he had consumed earlier in the evening in a completely different world with Hermione roiled in his stomach. Rabastan laughed at the obvious discomfort that Lucius was unable to hide from his countenance._

" _I will return in an hour to let you out," he said. "I am still looking for someone new so I will search downstairs in the new recruits. Do try to enjoy yourself, Lucius. I can only imagine how long it has been for you."_

 _Rabastan laid his slimy hand on the outside of the door to room 260. Immediately the entrance swung open. Rabastan pushed Lucius inside and closed the door behind him before Lucius even had an opportunity to resist the violation of his personal space. He stared at the closed door, terrified to turn around._

" _Mr. Malfoy?"_

 _Hesitantly, Lucius turned to face the source of the voice. The room was almost completely bare except for a single bed and a single chair at a small desk. There were no personal effects of any kind in the room indicating who it might belong to. He surveyed the room before raising his eyes to meet a pair of silvery grey eyes much like his own._

" _Miss Lovegood?"_

 _Luna smiled at him and he felt himself calm down slightly. The young witch he had known from her imprisonment in his cellars was lying on her small bed in a ghastly yellow hospital gown. He could see the swell of her protruding stomach at once. Rabastan hadn't simply been teasing him when he said he would be a grandfather soon. A rush of emotion came at the wizard with no warning. His knees almost gave way and he fell into the empty chair. Luna rose herself from the bed as quickly as a woman in her condition could carefully. She gently pushed his head between his legs and encouraged him to take deep breaths._

" _Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?"_

 _The fact that this child could be so concerned with his welfare when she was the one stuck in a hospital prison forced to_ entertain _dangerous and disgusting men was remarkable. Lucius felt his breathing return to a normal pace. The panic attack he feared the moment he saw the young woman was quickly passing. He lifted his head to look once more at the girl._

" _Thank you, Miss Lovegood. I think I am all right now."_

" _Do you think it was a wrackspurt?"_

 _Lucius could not even begin to fathom what a 'wrackspurt' was, but he replied in the negative nonetheless. She was staring at him in an odd manner that made him feel exposed to the bone. Almost as if he had walked out of the manor without remembering to put his clothes on first._

" _Would you like to feel it?"_

 _Lucius nodded once. Luna took his left hand in both of hers and placed it on her belly. He could feel the child inside move. He hadn't felt that since… well, it had been a long time. Despite his surroundings and the circumstances, Lucius couldn't help himself from smiling. There was life there. A new baby just waiting to make its entrance into the world. There was simply no greater magic._

" _Draco is afraid it is going to be a girl," she announced, breaking the spell._

" _Why is he afraid? Girls are wonderful."_

" _I said the same thing to him. He doesn't want to be responsible for bringing another girl into the world when a place like this still exists. He doesn't have to worry though."_

" _Why not?"_

" _It's a boy. The healers won't tell me for certain, but I know. I can feel it."_

 _Lucius dropped his hand off of the young woman's belly. She moved her right hand to the same spot. On her wrist he noticed a thick silver bracelet. When he asked her what it was she explained that it was what kept all of the prisoners inside their own room. Even if a door was accidentally left open they couldn't exit with the bracelet still on their wrist. It would simply prevent a gentle barrier._

" _Does Draco come here very often?" he asked, surprising even himself._

" _Yes, he comes when he has a free night. He comes to check on me and make sure I am doing all right."_

" _And are you all right?"_

" _Yes, I am, thank you. The first couple of months were rather difficult, but once Draco found out I was here he has been protecting me. He makes sure that no one else visits me. Some of the other girls are not as lucky. They don't have a protector."_

" _I am glad to hear that you are all right. When is…?" He gestured towards her stomach._

" _Not much longer now. Maybe in six or seven weeks. I'm sorry you won't get to know him. I'm sure he is going to be beautiful."_

" _I am certain you are right."_

 _They stayed there in silence for several minutes. Lucius had no idea how long he had been there. He wondered when Rabastan was going to arrive to let him out. He wasn't sure he could stand being in the room with this extraordinary girl for much longer. Luna reached down to take his hand again. She turned and started to pull him towards the bed with her._

" _What are you doing?" he demanded, dropping her hand as it were on fire._

" _Taking you to bed with me. That is why you are here, is it not?"_

" _Absolutely not!"_

 _Lucius was only forty five years old and in peak physical condition. He had never before had any trouble with his performance in certain areas, but he was convinced that Helen of Troy herself could burst into the room completely naked and he wouldn't even feel a tingle. There was nothing about the situation he was in that was the least bit erotic. He couldn't understand how other men could find this place so appealing._

" _You have kindness in your eyes," Luna said. "I noticed it when I was imprisoned in your house."_

 _Her declaration caught Lucius off guard once again. She was such an odd girl._

" _I must leave at once. How do I get out of here?"_

" _Just press your hand on the door."_

" _That is all?"_

" _The doors only open for men. That's why all of the staff and guards are men. The doors won't open for women."_

" _Thank you, Miss Lovegood."_

 _He pressed his hand on the door and just as she said, the door swung open. Lucius rushed into the hallway without saying another word to the witch carrying his first grandchild. He was flushed and sweaty by the time he ran down the stairs to the first floor. Rabastan called out his name from down the hallway._

" _Oh, ho, done so soon, Lucius?" Rabastan laughed. "She must've been good or maybe you are simply out of practice."_

" _I am leaving now."_

" _Why the hurry? Wait a little while and maybe you will be up for some more entertainment."_

 _Lucius glared at the wizard and returned to the staircase to descend to the ground floor. Rabastan was on his heels the entire time. The hallway seemed to last forever. Lucius was desperate to get out of that godforsaken building. He didn't want to be there and he didn't like leaving Hermione alone at night. The guard wizard at the front door handed him his wand._

" _Good evening, Rabastan!" He all but spat the words out._

 _Lucius made it across the grass to the sidewalk before turning around to Apparate home. When he felt the squeezing end and he could see his home off in the distance, Lucius leaned over to throw up spectacularly. He could tell by the way that the moon was hanging in the sky that it was almost midnight. Crossing through the gates and down the driveway that had never seen a motorized vehicle in its existence, Lucius looked up to the second floor window where he knew Hermione was. There were no lights coming from the room. He hoped she was able to fall asleep after he left. When he pushed the front door open he headed straight to his study. There was a bottle of whiskey with his name on it and he wasn't going to bed until it was empty._

* * *

Hermione covered her face and cried. She didn't want to believe his story, but this was a completely different world they were living in. Bad things had always happened to good people as the cliché went and this world was no exception. Lucius made good on his promise to finish the bottle by pouring himself yet another glass. Hermione knew he would regret it in the morning, but did not have the heart to chastise him. When the last drop of whiskey ran down Lucius' throat he threw the empty glass and the empty bottle at the fireplace stones. A mighty crash jarred Hermione enough to stop crying. Lucius rose from the sofa and began to pace the room.

"Children, Hermione. They are all children!"

She didn't know what to say. Nothing she thought of could possibly bring any comfort to this man. Lucius placed both of his hands on the mantle and lowered his head to rest on the wood. He stayed like that for several minutes, not moving a muscle. Only his labored breathing gave Hermione any indication that he was still alive.

"Draco had a younger sister."

His revelation was a murmur and Hermione almost missed it.

"What?"

Lucius turned from the mantle to gaze down at her. His eyes were tear-filled again.

"Draco had a younger sister."

"I didn't know that."

"Few people do," he continued. "She was born less than a year after Draco was born. Narcissa was embarrassed. Said that it was unseemly to have two children within such a short time of each other. Said it showed a lack of self-control but I did not care. Her name was Lyra and she was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen."

He crossed the room to his desk. With a pull on the bottom drawer, he removed two silver frames. He returned to his vacated seat on the sofa next to Hermione. Without another word he pushed one of the frames into her hand. It was of a very young Draco. He couldn't have been much more than a year. His gorgeous little face was lit up with a smile as he stood next to a pair of masculine hands holding a tiny baby. Lucius had not been exaggerating. Lyra was breathtaking. She had the same blonde hair just like her father and brother. Her eyes were grey, all Lucius. He took the frame from her hands and replaced it with the second one. This one showed Draco and Lyra a few years older than the first one. They were around six and five years old she estimated. Draco had his arm around his little sister. His expression was of pure love. Lyra was laughing and Hermione couldn't keep herself from chuckling back at her.

"She was beautiful."

"All I have been able to think of since this damned Umbridge Home was created has been her. Tonight it was too real. She would have been Luna's age. They might have even been friends. All of those poor girls locked in that place could have been Lyra's classmates. _She_ could have been locked in there."

Hermione handed the frame back to Lucius. He took another look at the picture, a ghost of a smile present on his haunted visage. His hand ran across the photograph. After a moment he placed both frames on the table behind them. He faced Hermione, another round of tears falling from his eyes. Hermione reached for his hand and he clung to it.

"We all fell in love with her the moment she was born. She was a breath of fresh air in this old house. Always laughing. I do not remember her ever crying. She was the funniest child too. Even made my father laugh and he was a difficult man to please. She was always getting into trouble though. Fearless. Father used to joke that she would shame us all one day and be sorted into Gryffindor."

He allowed himself a small chuckle. Hermione smiled.

"Too damn fearless for her own good!"

Hermione was desperate to know what happened to the beautiful girl that could make her father, who seemed to be fearless in his own right, so emotional. She knew to not ask questions. Lucius would say what he needed to say in his own time.

"There used to be a giant elm tree in the garden. One of my ancestors planted it. Generations of Malfoys had wands cut from the tree. My first one was made especially for me with a cutting from the same tree. When Lyra was five years old she decided to climb it. Draco tried to stop her, but he was no match for her when she had her mind made up.

"My father and I were nearby, but our minds were focused on the herb garden. Somehow she was able to climb up about twenty feet. I have no idea how. It may have been her childish magic coming through and propelling her up the branches. Draco begged for to come down and when she refused, he tried to get our attention. Father and I were too engrossed in our discussion to hear his cries.

"Her foot slipped. Father and I looked up when we heard Draco's screams. We ran as fast as we could to the tree, but arrived too late."

"Oh, Lucius!"

Tears were streaming down both of their cheeks. Hermione had no idea the pain that was in this man. Her heart was breaking for him.

"Broken neck. There was nothing we could do for her. She was dead the moment she hit the ground."

They sat in silence once more. The only sound was the crackling of the familiar fire. She wished she could take some of the agony from him.

"On the day of her funeral I walked out of the manor and blasted the tree into pieces with a reducto curse. My father was right behind me. I thought he was about to be angry with me for destroying a tree that had been in our family for so long. Instead he followed up my curse with an incendio spell to burn the pieces out of existence. That was the only time I ever saw Abraxas Malfoy cry.

"Draco was never the same after that. You can imagine why. He still blames himself for her fall. He believes that he if has just been able to stop her she would still be alive today. Of course he forgets to remember that once Lyra set her mind to something, there was nothing anyone could do to get her to change it.

"That is why Narcissa was so desperate to find out if Draco was still alive at the Battle for Hogwarts. That is why she lied to the Dark Lord. That is why we ran through the castle to find him and ignored the battle going on around us. We had already experienced the torment of losing a child and knew we could not survive it again."

Lucius released Hermione's hand and laid his head on the back of the sofa. His eyes had finally shed their last tear. She was certain there was nothing left in him to cry anymore. The clock on the mantle struck four. They both needed their sleep, especially Lucius. Between the sheer emotions and the vast amount of alcohol he had consumed, he needed to go to bed.

"It's late, Lucius. We should go to bed."

Hermione rose from the sofa. Gently taking his hands in hers, she helped him rise from his seated position. She knew he would need help to make it up to his room. The walk up the stairs took a long time. He was such an imposing man and she was not large at all. She briefly considered casting a locomotor spell on him, but decided against it. Lucius kept his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders through the entire journey.

Somehow they managed to make it to his spacious master suite without any injury. Hermione helped him remove his outer robes. He sat down on the edge of the bed and she helped him remove his boots. With the gentlest of pushes, she got him to lie down in his vast bed. She pulled the covers up over his frame. As she turned to leave the room, Lucius reached out to grab her arm. Hermione turned back around to look at the man lying in the bed.

"Will you stay with me?"

His request was so desperate she couldn't say no. She didn't really want to be alone that night either. Lucius scooted over towards the middle of the bed leaving a large enough spot for her on the edge. Without a second thought, Hermione crawled into the sheets next to him. Both of his arms encircled her, pulling her body up against his. Within moments they were both asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Hermione woke up to bright sunshine directly in her eyes. She hadn't thought about closing the drapes on the windows before she went to bed the night before. Still it seemed that she had probably been asleep for many hours. The sunshine was not the early morning sunshine that usually woke her. She could tell the sun was likely high in the sky. It had to be at least noon. Her body was stiff from remaining in the same position for hours. She stretched her arms above her as she normally did each time she woke up. This morning or afternoon rather, however, her elbow came into contact with a barrier it did not normally hit. With a startled half-jump, she remembered she was not waking up in her own bed.

Her elbow making contact with Lucius' chest did not even faze him. He was still very heavily asleep. _No wonder after all of the whiskey he drank last night. It's a wonder he's not dead of alcohol poisoning._ She gingerly turned over in her spot to look at the man she had shared a bed with the night before. At some point in the night Lucius had relinquished his hold on her, but he had not moved any further away from her. Their bodies were still as close to each other as physically possible without being directly on top of one another. Lucius head was turned away from her; his arms were both above his head.

Hermione took a few moments to stare at this powerful wizard in his most defenseless state. For someone sleeping off a bender, he was remarkably quiet. _Of course the great and powerful Lucius Malfoy doesn't snore! Too common of a behavior for him._ Hermione smiled at her thoughts. He was truly a devastatingly handsome man even first thing in the morning. She could only imagine the truly horrendous state of her own hair that morning, but even completely asleep his hair was perfect. _How does he do that?_ His face was more relaxed in his sleep than she had ever seen it. The slight wrinkles that were beginning to form around his eyes and mouth and the worry lines that had begun to pop up on his forehead were hardly visible with his face so relaxed. As a result of extraordinarily good genes and the powerful magic that ran through his veins, Lucius would always look much younger than his actual age. That was never more evident than seeing his calm, serene face as he slept.

After a couple of minutes of staring at the man next to her, Hermione carefully removed herself from the bed. Nature was calling and she had already slept too much. The day was almost gone. She gently pulled the covers back up to cover Lucius. He twitched for a moment at the contact of additional covers, but only took a moment to settle back into his deep relaxation. Hermione stared at him for another minute before crossing the hallway to begin her day.

One o'clock found her in the kitchen curled up at the table with her new potions book in hand. She had already eaten a good meal and was waiting to see when her protector would finally make his way downstairs. In the middle of reading the section on the most gruesome poisons she could imagine, the master of the house made his appearance.

"Good morning," she greeted with a warm smile.

Lucius nodded at her before holding his head with a grimace. Hermione didn't think she had been speaking that loudly. She placed the book down on the table and crossed the room to the stove. A plate full of greasy fried potatoes, eggs and bacon was waiting for him with a warming spell. He took it from her greedily and didn't even wait until he was seated at the table to start eating it.

"I also have something else," she announced, placing a large, spicy smelling drink in front of him. "My dad always makes these for my mum when she has a bit too much to drink. A bit of the hair of the dog that bit you."

"That is revolting!"

"Oh, very much so, but it will help."

Lucius took another swig of the drink and gagged. Hermione thought for years that her father was simply making her mother a bloody mary until she watched him make it one day. His secret ingredient would be enough to make even the strongest stomach want to hurl, but she wasn't lying when she said it would help. Lucius slammed the glass on the table and pushed it away from him.

"I would rather die."

"You are fortunate you didn't die last night considering the amount of alcohol you drank," she snapped.

Lucius just scowled at her and took another drink of the substance. Once again he slammed it down on the table and pushed it away from him.

"No more."

"You see, Lucius, I figure you have two options. One: You can drink the rest of that without complaining…"

"What is the second option?"

"Two: I can put you in a full body bind and funnel it down your throat."

She smiled at him. He scowled again.

"I would like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me, Lucius."

Hermione raised a single eyebrow in an excellent imitation of the look he had given her many times over the past six weeks. She could tell that he was fighting an internal battle of whether or not to force her hand. After a few seconds of heated, intense eye contact, Lucius somehow managed to chug the rest of the drink in one try. He slammed the empty glass down with a ferocity that almost shattered the tumbler.

"I am not used to being spoken to in such a manner in my own home," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

"I am not used to being around a grown man acting like a three year old, so I guess we both have some adjustments that we need to get used to."

Hermione snatched the potions book off of the table and headed towards the door to the kitchen. She would rather wait for the wizard to be less grumpy before she spent another moment with him. Lucius groaned from the table, but she didn't stop. Life was too short to spend a moment with an unhappy, irritable wizard stuck in the midst of what must be a killer hangover.

Twenty minutes later Lucius entered the study to find Hermione lying across the sofa with a book propped up in front of her. He didn't say a word to her. Hermione thought maybe he was just the littlest bit shamed by his behavior earlier in the kitchen. At least she hoped he was. He might have been used to everyone around him just accepting his sour moods, but she wasn't going to just let him throw a temper tantrum whenever it suited him. The last thing he needed in life was another person letting him getting away with whatever he wanted.

Lucius crossed the room to the fireplace. Cassius and Sophie were already nestled down in front of the fireplace in their usual spots to spend the remainder of the afternoon. He looked at the table behind the sofa and saw at least eight repaired glasses from the previous evening. Hermione saw his cheeks flush the tiniest bit when he noticed the mess she cleaned up before he arrived. Without saying anything to her, he lifted up her legs off of the sofa and settled himself beneath them. She tried her hardest to ignore him. She didn't want to be the first person to say something.

"Thank you for making me lunch," he finally said after several minutes of awkward silence.

"You're welcome." She didn't look up from her book.

"It was what I needed. Greasy foods always do help when you are hungover."

"Indeed." She was flipping the pages in her book, not reading a single word.

"That disgusting _potion_ you gave me seems to have done the trick."

"Good." She stopped turning the pages, but did not lower the book from her face.

"Hermione…"

Lucius reached across the sofa and pulled her book out of her hands.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior in the kitchen earlier," he said, his cheeks blushing just enough to prove Hermione's theory that he was not in the habit of making apologies. "It was unseemly. There is never an excuse to behave so poorly."

"I accept your apology, Lucius. Thank you."

"May I ask you a serious question?"

Hermione sat up abruptly, pulling her legs out of Lucius' lap. She stared at the man. His face was solemn and she worried that he was about to bring up one of the difficult revelations he had made to her the night before. She wasn't sure if she was ready for the emotional onslaught a conversation like that was likely to bring. As it was, she had horrible dreams all night about long hallways and Antonin Dolohov. She knew she wasn't ready, but this was not all about her. Obviously Lucius had more that he needed to say.

"Of course, Lucius."

She braced herself for whatever he was going to ask.

"How many times do I have to brush my teeth before I can get this horrible aftertaste out of my mouth?"

Hermione burst out laughing and threw the throw pillow she had been laying her head on at his smirking face. He caught it easily before it made contact. His face broke into the first genuine smile she had seen since dinner the previous night before their entire world and entire relationship shifted.

"At least three or four times, I'm afraid," she replied.

"I was afraid of that. At the very least you have encouraged me to stay away from whiskey for the rest of my life," he said, grimacing and shaking his head at the thought of her tonic. "I never want you to force feed me that nauseating concoction again."

"I truly hope you remember that. I _did_ tell you it would help though."

Lucius grimaced once more. He stood from the sofa and went over to his desk. Hermione watched him cross the room, interested to know what he was doing. He put his hand on one of the drawers to his desk and halted before pulling it open.

"There is something I wish to give you," he announced quietly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

"But Lucius, you've already given me a wonderful present. I don't need anything else."

He shook his head.

"No, it is not a present. It was something I should have given you weeks ago, but I stopped myself."

Hermione was intensely curious. Whatever could he be talking about? She sat up straighter in her seat.

"Before I give this to you, Hermione, I need you to promise me something."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I need you to promise to _never_ use it."

Her curiosity was definitely piqued at this point. She trusted Lucius so she would agree to whatever conditions he set forth.

"I promise," she answered.

Lucius opened the desk drawer and pulled something out so quickly she couldn't get a good look at it. Holding it behind his back, he navigated across the room once more to seat himself next to her on the sofa. Hermione was anxious with anticipation. It was obviously something big and important. Why else would he make her promise him not to use it if it wasn't?

"What is it, Lucius? You're making me nervous."

He moved his hand out from behind his back and thrust something in her hands. It took her a moment to realize that she was staring at the wand she never expected to see again. She was holding her very first wand she picked out at Ollivander's shop when she was eleven years old. Tears built up in her eyes and she found her throat suddenly dry. 10 ¾ inches, vine wood, dragon heartstring. She had never seen something so beautiful. The familiar outpouring of magic she had taken for granted for years surged up her arm. She itched to use it again, regardless of the promise she just made.

"Wherever did you find this, Lucius? I thought it was long destroyed."

"It fell under an armchair in the drawing room during your… well, during that night. It was forgotten about in the aftermath. I found it several months ago when I dropped my own wand under the same chair. I am not sure what possessed me to hold on to it at the time, but I am thankful that I did."

Hermione closed the distance between them and threw her arms around Lucius' neck. He brought his own around her back to pull her close.

"You could've given me the moon, Lucius, and it wouldn't have meant more to me than this."

They released their embrace after a few moments and Hermione returned to her previous spot on the sofa. Reaching into a pocket she had cleverly sewed into each and every bra that she owned, she pulled her beaded bag out. Lucius watched her actions with interest. Opening the top of the bag, she stuck her hand deep down into it and placed her precious wand safely in a corner pocket where she knew it would stay safe.

"Do not ever forget that that wand has the trace on it," he warned. "Be sure that it does not get broken. That will register its use as well."

"Not to worry, Lucius. One of the spells I placed on this bag was an unbreakable spell. A steamroller could run over it and everything inside would be fine. I even created a separate pocket inside the purse that is even more heavily protected. The wand will be safe."

Lucius brushed off the remark about a steamroller, whatever that was. His gaze remained on the bag. Sensing his curiosity, Hermione began to pull book after book after book out of it. She also started pulling out items of clothing and potion vials to show him how effective the undetectable extension charm really was.

"Remarkable," he said. "And you keep this with you at all times?"

"Yes, it is always with me. I even take it with me in the shower or lay it on the side of the tub."

Lucius raised a single eyebrow at her confession.

"You are a very clever witch."

"Thank you."

"Wherever did you get the idea?"

"Oh, this old movie my mum loves. A nanny carries around this large carpet bag with her full of furniture and everything else she owns. When she moves into a new house, she pulls out lamps and coatracks. I tried to explain to my mother that the nanny was obviously a witch, but she didn't believe me."

"Sounds like she was to me as well."

"When Harry and Ron and I were planning on going… _hunting_ , I knew we would need to be well prepared and well stocked to make it on our own. I spent months creating this bag, but knew I'd need something smaller than a carpet bag. Too noticeable. This is hardly larger than a coin purse. I can hide it on my person quite easily."

"So this is your secret for how you were able to survive for so long on your own?"

Hermione smiled, a hint of a blush of pride popping out on her cheeks.

"It certainly helped. I have a magic tent inside here too. If anything happens to me, I can be gone at a moment's notice. Everything I need is inside the bag."

"Let us hope that you are never again in a position where you will need that bag."

* * *

The beginning of April marked two solid months that Hermione had been living in the manor with Lucius. She was always surprised how easily they had fallen into a routine together. Two months seemed more like years. It was almost as if she had always been there. They continued to host Rabastan Lestrange a few times each week. He stopped visiting as frequently as he had in the past once Hermione made it very clear to him one evening that she would appreciate it if he kept his hands off of her body. He had the decency to seem embarrassed for approximately five minutes before he returned to being the same disgusting pervert he always was. The pleasant side effect of that had been that at least he started limiting his visits.

Antonin Dolohov had not come back to the manor since the first night he visited. Hermione was supremely thankful on one hand and also very worried on the other. She wanted to know what kind of progress he was making in Australia in the search for her parents. Occasionally she or Lucius would casually mention his absence to Rabastan. He would give them snippets of information he had received from his friend regarding his current whereabouts, but never anything solid.

On April 2nd, three hundred and thirty days after the Battle for Hogwarts, Hermione and Lucius were enjoying one of those rare nights that Rabastan had not come calling. They were sharing a delicious bottle of red wine once more in their private sanctuary, the study. As it always happened between the two, there was enough to keep their discussion going for hours. They never tired of talking to one another.

"Damn," Lucius said as he emptied the last of the bottle into Hermione's glass. "Looks like that is the last of it. Should have brought up another bottle."

"You know, Lucius, you've been promising me for about two months to take me down into this cellar of yours, but you never have. I'm beginning to wonder if it is all a lie."

With a bright smile on his countenance, Lucius rose from the sofa and took Hermione's right hand in his left. He pulled her out of the room and down the corridor to the kitchens. Instead of stopping at the familiar room, he kept on walking further towards the back of the house than Hermione had yet explored. The manor was so large and foreboding that she did not like to explore areas without Lucius. She struggled a bit to keep up with his long strides, but he never relinquished his hold on her hand. At the very end of the hallway that seemed to go on forever stood a simple door. Hermione would've guessed it was to a broom cupboard if asked. Lucius pushed the door open to reveal a long, narrow staircase.

"It is a bit of a climb," he announced. "I will walk ahead of you. Be careful, the stairs are rather slick."

He held her hand the entire time they descended the dark staircase. She was thankful that he was ahead of her because there were a couple of times her feet slipped on the stairs and he was there to prevent her from falling. After several minutes they reached the bottom. She estimated that had to have been at least as deep as the dungeons in Hogwarts Castle. The air had a different smell and it was cool enough that she wished she had a sweater. Lucius waved his wand and dozens of torches began to light themselves. When her eyes adjusted to the light she saw the largest wine cellar she had ever seen, ever even dreamed of. It had to have been at least the size of a Quidditch pitch, if not larger. Wine racks reached to the ceiling. If she had to estimate, there were probably at least a million bottles down there. More than a single twelve people could consume in a lifetime. No wonder Lucius always seemed to have an unlimited supply.

"I had no idea it would be this large!" she exclaimed.

"Malfoys have been expanding the cellar and adding to it for hundreds of years. Over there are bottles that were bottled when the Founders were still alive."

"Incredible. No wonder you kept this a secret from me. I'd probably get lost down here and die of starvation before you found me."

Lucius laughed and led her to one of the closest racks. He released her hand to reach for a bottle above his head. When he pulled the bottle down, he reached up for a second one. Hermione started to laugh.

"Are you expecting us to drink both of those tonight?" she asked.

"You never know. We have been known to drink this much in the past."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Malfoy? Hoping to lower my inhibitions?"

The words shocked her as they came out of her mouth, but she wasn't sorry that she said them. Lucius cleared his throat. He was obviously at a loss for words, a rare occasion for him. After a few moments of silence, he threw his head back and cackled an exaggerated laugh.

"You have discovered my evil plan, Miss Granger. That was exactly what I was planning to do."

Hermione playfully swatted his right arm and took the wine bottle out of that hand. She started to turn to head back towards the staircase.

"Wait, Hermione."

Lucius reached his free hand into her hair.

"You walked into a cobweb," he explained.

His hand ran through her hair pulling out the bits of cobweb stuck in it. When the cobweb was gone, he kept his hand on the side of her head. Hermione looked up into his silvery grey eyes while he stared down at hers. His eyes seemed darker than they normally did. Hermione held her breath. She was suddenly very nervous for a reason she could not quite understand. Lucius pushed her hair behind her ear, ran his hand down her cheek and slowly began to close the small gap between their bodies. His right hand moved around the back of her head and he began to lower his head towards hers.

"Hermione…"

The moment was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a misty, silvery snake. It appeared so abruptly that Hermione almost screamed. The patronus looked eerily like the snake Nagini. When it opened its mouth to speak, she could've cried when she heard the voice.

 _"Lucius, lower the wards. Two incoming."_

Hermione heard Lucius mutter a curse word under his breath when he dropped his hand from her head. Taking a third bottle down from the rack, he led the way back towards the staircase, his change of mood intense. At the edge of the staircase he waved his wand and muttered several incantations under his breath. Hermione immediately felt a wave of energy pass over her body. It was unsettling. The trek up the stairs seemed to take no time at all. Lucius walked quickly down the hall in front of her, leaving her struggling to keep up. She could hear voices in the entrance hall by the time she reached it. Lucius was straining to keep a polite tone with the visitors.

"Hermione!"

Neville Longbottom rushed across the hall and pulled her into such a fierce embrace that she almost dropped the bottle of wine she was carrying. She was so thankful to see her friend and housemate. His voice coming out of the snake patronus surprised her, but it made sense. Neville's proudest moment was the moment he sliced off the head of the disgusting snake and destroyed one of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes. It made perfect sense that his patronus that had been formless before during the D.A. meetings took on that shape.

"Hannah and I have been wanting to come by since January, but there never was any time," he explained, pushing her gently away from him so he could take a better look at her. "We have been so worried about you."

Hannah Abbott reached Hermione and gave her almost as warm a hug as her paramour had. Hermione could feel the ever-present tears begin to form in her eyes. Lucius took the bottle of wine from her hands and disappeared into the drawing room to give the old friends a moment or two to catch up in private.

"It is wonderful to see you both too," Hermione exclaimed. "I've hardly seen anyone since I've been here."

"There has been so much to do," Hannah explained. "It's been hard to get any time at all to come. Neville needed to speak with Lucius about something important. Wouldn't even tell me what it was. We decided to take the opportunity to come see how you are doing."

"I'm so glad that you did!"

Hermione led her two friends into the drawing room where Lucius already had a bottle of wine open and four clean glasses ready to be filled. She took them over the same seats that Rabastan and Antonin had occupied several weeks earlier. Lucius gracefully handed them both glasses of the selection they'd made downstairs.

"Hannah, I don't think you should drink that," Neville whispered, but not quietly enough for everyone else to hear.

"Oh, nonsense! I can have a small one."

To prove her point, Hannah began to take small sips of the wine. Hermione and Lucius took their normal seats next to each other and followed her lead.

"We just returned from London," Neville explained after a minute or so of awkward silence. "Kingsley asked several of us to meet him there."

"How is he doing?" Hermione asked, concerned for her dear friend.

"He's been very busy as you can imagine," answered Hannah. "Don't worry, 'Mione, I got on to him for not eating enough. He's getting too skinny."

"Good." She smiled back at the Hufflepuff girl.

"There is something big coming," Neville added. "We've been making plans for months. Hopefully soon we will finally have some good news to share. George and Angelina have been relentless. They've gotten the last of the parents of the D.A. out and they've made several trips out of the country to make sure the families are all safe."

"That's wonderful to hear."

After a few minutes of discussion about the resistance, Neville cleared his throat noisily and asked Lucius to speak with him somewhere private. Lucius gave Hermione a final glance before exiting the room with the war hero. She was certain he was taking Neville into his study. The ladies were alone for the first time.

"How far along are you?" Hermione asked moments after the door closed behind Lucius.

Hannah's cheeks flushed and it wasn't just because of the wine.

"Only a couple of months. I can't believe he said that in front of you both. How embarrassing!" Hannah's smile indicated that there was in fact, no embarrassment on her part. "Nevvie has been so overprotective of me since we found out. Wants me to leave the country and go hide with Lee's group, but I told him there was no way I was going to leave him alone."

"I'm very happy for you both." Hermione was sincere.

"Thank you. It was, as you can imagine, unplanned, but no less welcome. We've been planning on getting married since seventh year before the Battle, but haven't been able to find the time. So much to do."

"I was happy to hear that you two were together. How nice to have a partner through all of this."

Hannah's cheeks flushed once more.

"We hated to find out that you had been alone, Hermione. How awful."

"Yes, well, it was difficult, but I managed."

"I'm glad you are here now. Lucius was so kind to Neville after his parents… well, when he came to stay here. He had been worried about Lucius being cooped up in this house by himself for so long. It's not exactly the most inviting place to live."

"It has been wonderful. Much better than shivering in a tent in the middle of god knows where."

Hannah took a nervous sip of her wine.

"And Lucius?" she asked. "How are you liking living here with him?"

"He has been the perfect host. I am very grateful for him."

Hermione suddenly thought back to that moment in the wine cellar Neville's patronus interrupted. What would have happened if Neville hadn't cast that spell at that exact moment? She shook her head physically in an attempt to banish any further questions or thoughts related to that moment. There would be plenty of time later to dissect every second when she didn't have long lost friends visiting.

"He can't keep his eyes off of you," Hannah said softly.

"What?"

"You must have noticed, Hermione. Lucius can't keep his eyes off of you. I noticed it immediately. Even when he was greeting me at the front door his eyes kept moving back to you. While we were all sitting in here together he hardly took his eyes off of you."

Hermione did not know what to say. Yes, she knew that Lucius often looked in her direction. They were usually the only two people in the manor. Of course it would make sense that he would frequently check on her. She tried to rationalize all of the thoughts she was having, but she knew she couldn't. Hermione Granger was not an idiot. She had known for a while that Lucius had feelings for her. She was certain that it was simply because they spent so much time together. That was the only possible explanation. No other reason why Pureblood Supremacist Lucius Malfoy would be interested in Muggle-Born Hermione Granger.

"And you seem very comfortable around him as well."

"Well, naturally," she responded, her voice going up almost an octave higher than normal. "We are practically roommates. It doesn't take long for you to get comfortable around someone you've lived with for two months."

"That's not what I'm saying, Hermione, and you know it."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to her friend.

"If you want my advice, I'd say go for it."

"Go for what?"

"Hermione, this may come as somewhat of a shock to you, but life is cruel and sometimes too damn short. You are living with a gorgeous man who is obviously very much in love with you."

"I don't think…"

"Don't argue with me. I'm right. And furthermore, I've seen the way you look at him too. He is not exactly experiencing unrequited love."

She almost dropped her wine glass. Her hands were trembling. How could Hannah be so certain in her feelings when she wasn't sure at all? It was infuriating. Hermione did not have long to dwell on the revelation or to have a chance to respond because both of the men returned. Lucius met her eyes and it was obvious that whatever he had just discussed with Neville was anything but good news. She rose from her chair and met them as they came in. Lucius ran his hand across her back.

"I'm afraid we have to get going now, Hermione," Neville announced, his eyes not meeting hers.

He gave her a warm hug and walked back out into the entrance hall. Hannah followed his lead. Lucius watched them walk down to the edge of the driveway and exit through the gates before saying a word. He took a moment to bring the wards and protections back up before turning to look at her.

"Let's go into the study." It wasn't a suggestion, but she didn't argue.

Hermione followed him into the room with her heart in her stomach. Lucius' entire demeanor was different than it was just an hour earlier when they were standing in the wine cellar. Something monumental had changed and if he didn't tell her what it was soon, she was certain she was going to go completely insane. She allowed him to lead her to the sofa without argument. When he seated himself next to her, he took a deep breath and reached for her hand.

"Neville received some information from a Mr. Creevey in Australia this afternoon," Lucius began. Hermione's stomach lurched. "I am afraid that your parents were discovered late last night by a group led by Antonin."

"Are they all right?" She feared the worst.

"I am so sorry, Hermione."

She didn't allow him to say another word before she ran completely out of the room. Lucius understood she needed to be alone and did not follow her. Hermione rushed to her bedroom as quickly as she could. She needed to be by herself before she fell to pieces.

Once inside her room she calmly removed the dress she was wearing to put on her pajamas. Almost like a zombie she moved through the motions of getting ready for bed like she had a million times before in her life. She was able to brush her hair and wash her face without crumbling. In the middle of brushing her teeth she could feel the break coming. She turned all of the lights off in her bathroom and bedroom before slipping under the covers to completely break down.

It was all her fault. If she hadn't been born a witch, her parents would have never been put in harm's way. If she hadn't been friends with Harry, her parents would have been safe. If she hadn't somehow triggered Antonin Dolohov's obsession with her, they would still be alive. She thought that by wiping their memories of her she was protecting them, but she wasn't. They were in danger from the moment she was born.

Hermione could not hold back the gale of sorrow. She began to cry harder than she had ever cried in her life. Even the tears she shed when she was safe inside her tent after the Battle for Hogwarts were paltry compared to what she was experiencing at that moment. She never knew it was possible for one person to feel such pain. As she lay underneath the covers of her large bed, she could not stop sobbing. After several minutes of sobbing she felt the strongest arms pull her up from the bed and crush her to a robust chest. Lucius' embrace only made her cry harder.

"Oh, my Hermione, I am so sorry. I am so sorry, my darling."

He whispered into her hair as she wept on his shoulder. She allowed herself to be held until the choking sobs subsided into quiet, tiny whimpers. Lucius held her with all of the strength that she had held him with the night he spoke about his daughter. The roles were reversed from that night as he made the comforting, soothing sounds and rubbed his solid hands over her body. He didn't leave her when the last of her energy was leaving her body and she was certain she was about to fall asleep.

"Please don't leave me," she begged before her head hit the pillow and her eyes closed.

Lucius embraced her well into the next morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Three weeks passed following the heartbreaking news of Hermione's parents' murders which she survived in a fog. Lucius was patient with her and always nearby in case she needed anything. Their happy routine was replaced with days on end that Hermione simply stayed in bed. He always made sure that she ate out of fear of her progress of the last few months being sabotaged and to Hermione's credit, she never once fought the three times a day intrusion on her grief.

Lucius worried about her incessantly. His personal mission became making certain that she had everything she could possibly need. He never pushed her for which Hermione was exceedingly grateful. He tried to tempt her out of her room with promises of long walks around the estate she always loved or new books lovingly selected from the finest bookstores wizarding Britain had to offer. When nothing seemed to work, he considered bringing Kingsley or George over to visit. She politely thanked him for the suggestion before closing the door to her bedroom in his face. There had not been a repeat of that first night when she begged him to stay with her and he spent the entire night trying to comfort her. She had essentially pushed Lucius completely out of her life as she hid upstairs to wallow in her depression.

One week before the first anniversary of the day all of their lives changed forever, Hermione sat at the desk in her bedroom picking at the tray of dinner Lucius brought her earlier. Her appetite had all but disappeared. She knew that she needed to pull herself together for Lucius' sake. He had been so kind and so patient it made her want to cry. What she had done to deserve him was a complete mystery. She had to remind herself over and over again that she was no longer alone. He deserved much better from her than the treatment he had received over the past several weeks.

She rose from the desk after forcing herself to finish every mouthful of the meal Lucius provided with the determination to get out of the depressing funk she had been living in. Hermione stood under the hot spray of the shower for much longer than was necessary. The heat on her exhausted muscles was just what she needed to relax the tension away. By the time the taps were turned off and a quick spell dried her hair, she almost felt like herself again. She took time in picking out the right dress to wear. Lucius always complimented her when she wore a dark Ravenclaw blue. Said that it set off her complexion and made her eyes sparkle. She pulled a beautiful royal blue dress on that gracefully hit her right at the feet with sleeves that just barely fell off her shoulders revealing the tiniest hint of her barely there cleavage. With a few beauty spells designed to disguise the sickly pallor her face had taken on in the previous few weeks, Hermione stood in front of a full length mirror. She completed the chic style with a somewhat messy updo and proclaimed herself satisfied with the results. She hoped Lucius would be pleased to see her up and about.

The myriad of clocks scattered throughout the manor struck eight o'clock when Hermione was finally ready to venture downstairs. She could see a light coming out of the open door to the study when she arrived downstairs. The voice Lucius always used when speaking to his beloved dogs carried across the entrance hall. Hermione hesitantly approached the open door. She hadn't been back in that room since the night Lucius informed her that her parents had been found in Australia. Sophie raised her head from Lucius' lap when Hermione drew near the door. Both dogs began to shake their tails in unison with a ferocity that declared their love for her. Lucius lifted his head at the disturbance. After he spent just a moment to take in her entire appearance, his entire countenance lit up with a gorgeous smile. He met her at the door without saying a word to lead her back to her customary spot on the sofa.

"I am so pleased to see you downstairs, Hermione."

She returned his gracious smile.

"I've been hiding too long," she replied. "It's time that I got out amongst the living instead of wasting my time stuck with the dead."

He clasped her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I am glad."

Cassius immediately placed his gigantic furry head in her lap demanding love and affection. Lucius released her hand to allow her free rein to scratch the dogs to her heart's content.

"We have all been missing the pleasure of your company," he said as Sophie used her large body to push Cassius out of the way of Hermione's hands.

Hermione laughed at Sophie's insistence that it was her turn for scratches. There was no question which of the dogs was in charge. Sophie might have been just the tiniest bit smaller than Cassius, but she was without a doubt the leader of the two. Lucius was the alpha of their pack and over the previous several weeks they had been gradually allowing Hermione to join them as well. She had always considered herself more of a cat person until those two ingratiated themselves into her heart.

"I have been missing your company as well," she replied, meeting his gaze with a tentative grin. "And of course yours as well, Sophie and your brother's."

The four of them settled into what seemed would be a quiet, uneventful evening. Lucius had just finished a new book on Transfiguration principles that he was certain Hermione would find fascinating. He described the highlights of the theories to spark her interest. Hermione promised to read it the next day so they could discuss it more in depth. She had grown to love the lively debates and discussions she shared with this man. No one else had ever challenged her intellect in quite the same way or encouraged her voracity for knowledge like he did.

Only moments after the clock struck nine o'clock the alarms started going off once more indicating an unwelcome guest. With a roll of her eyes and silent fear that maybe one day soon they would run out of Isla's hair to continue brewing into the polyjuice potion, Hermione knocked back a dose to begin the transformation. She was getting quite sick of polyjuice potion. Isla's tasted of stewed turnips that had been left in the pot for too long. Lucius cursed under his breath before leaving the room to answer the front door. Hermione was right behind him to welcome their all-to-frequent guest.

"Good evening, Rabastan," Lucius greeted at once.

Rabastan Lestrange pushed his way past Lucius and headed straight for Hermione. Once he placed two slimy kisses on each of her cheeks, the Death Eater held her out at arm's length to scan her body from top to bottom.

"How wonderful you look this evening, Miss Black. I have been very worried about you these past several weeks. How are you feeling, my dear?"

"Much better. Thank you, Mr. Lestrange."

"Nothing contagious, I hope?"

"No, not at all."

"Excellent."

Rabastan reached around to pinch her arse once more. Hermione just rolled her eyes and sighed. There really was no stopping the disgusting pervert. In fact, she thought he rather liked it when she protested.

"Antonin, what a pleasant and unexpected surprise," Lucius said loudly to catch Hermione's attention.

She was afraid she was going to faint. How could she possibly spend a single moment in his presence knowing what she did? Knowing he was obsessed with her to the point of tracking her obliviated parents down to Australia to bring about their untimely deaths? Hermione began to rack her brain for any acceptable excuse to get her out of the room, out of the manor, out of the country. There were none. Lucius caught her eye and she remembered the part she must play.

"Good evening, Mr. Dolohov," she said, shaking his hand and desperately trying not to cringe or scream while doing so. "How lovely of you to join us this evening."

"Thank you, Miss Black, Lucius."

Lucius led the group into the drawing room. He stood outside the door and pulled Hermione off to the side before she entered after their guests.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, concern and a tiny bit of fear present in his grey eyes.

"I will be okay," she promised hoping it wasn't a complete lie.

"I can make your excuses if you need me to."

Hermione was so touched by his concern that she leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I will be all right, Lucius. Thank you."

Rabastan and Antonin were already seated in what had become their customary chairs. Both rose until Hermione was seated in her own armchair next to Lucius. In less than minute, thanks to Lucius' years of experience and practice, all four had full glasses of a full-bodied red in their hands. A silence persisted over the group as they sipped their wine for the first few minutes.

"Excellent vintage, Lucius, as always," said Rabastan. He never could keep his mouth shut for very long.

"Thank you, Rabastan. One of my personal favorites."

"Antonin and I did have a purpose for coming this evening. Other than enjoying your wine and the company of your beautiful goddaughter, of course."

"Did you?" Lucius asked. Hermione could sense he was trying not to seem too curious.

Rabastan took a long swallow of the wine, emptying it. Lucius rose to refill the glass. Once Lucius was reseated, Rabastan began speaking again.

"Well, yes, as you know next Sunday will mark the first anniversary of our Dark Lord's victory."

"Yes, I am aware."

How could he not be aware of the upcoming anniversary? It was also the anniversary of the day he and his son tortured his late wife before executing her under orders. Lucius would never forget that day as long as he lived. Hermione wouldn't either. She lost a number of loved ones that horrible May day as well.

"I will be hosting a grand reception and ball at my family estate next Saturday evening to commemorate the special occasion."

"How nice." Lucius' voice was an insincere as Hermione had ever heard it.

"Everyone will be attending, of course," Rabastan continued. "I daresay even the Dark Lord himself may make an appearance."

Hermione's throat grew very dry. She tried to disguise her nerves by keeping herself busy nursing her glass. Only Lucius noticed her discomfort. Antonin had spent the entire visit staring off into the flames of the fireplace. Rabastan was so oblivious he would not notice if a hippogriff suddenly appeared in the drawing room.

"I would have extended the invitation earlier but seeing as how Miss Black has been so ill lately, I wasn't sure it would be appropriate. But now that I see Miss Black is the very picture of health, you will both attend of course."

"We may have other plans." Even Lucius could tell his response was feeble.

"No, you don't," answered Rabastan. "And even if _you_ did, Lucius, it would not matter. My invitation is to your charming goddaughter. I extend it to you as well out of respect for the fact that she is currently residing in your home."

Sensing that the two wizards were only moments away from what could potentially be an explosive encounter, Hermione spoke up to interrupt them both.

"Thank you, Mr. Lesrtange, I will be delighted to attend."

The words came out of Hermione's mouth before she allowed her brain to contemplate the ramifications. Lucius was furious. Rabastan was delighted. Antonin was ambivalent. Hermione was terrified.

"If you will excuse my presumptions, Miss Black," Rabastan said rising from his chair and coming to stand in front of hers. From inside his front robe pocket he removed a very small white box. With a single tap of his wand, the box expanded. "Knowing that you have been so ill lately, I took the liberty of custom ordering you something to wear. I do hope you like it."

* * *

On Saturday, May 1st, exactly three hundred and sixty four days after the Battle for Hogwarts, Hermione stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom getting her first good look at the formal dress Rabastan Lestrange gave her in the form of a truly inappropriate gift. She had to give him credit, however. He had given her the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. The deep royal purple silk fit tightly to her curves in the front. The high neck collar only went around the back of her neck allowing the top of the bodice to split open to reveal the softest silver lace covering the top of her stomach and her bust in the deep, plunging v-neck. The sleeves went past her elbows and a long train dropped from the covered back, extending at least three feet behind her when she walked. There were yards and yards of fabric with only the very hint of the very tops of her breasts exposed, but it was the sexiest garment she had ever worn. The clinging of the silk to her curves and the full coverage of her body was elegant beyond what she imagined Rabastan was capable of picking out. Before opening the box for the first time, she had envisioned a tacky dress with an excess amount of skin put on display. The sheer sophistication of the gown was surprising.

She wore her hair piled on top of her head in orderly curls. Isla's hair was almost the exact same length as her own so the transformation would hardly affect her hair. When she stepped out into the corridor when she was ready to leave, Lucius was coming out of his own room at the same time. He cut an elegant figure in his expensive dress robes. Lucius examined her from her head to her feet. His eyes darkened and he nodded once in approval.

"Wait right here," he said before disappearing back into his room.

A few minutes later he emerged with his hands full of diamonds.

"These belonged to my grandmother," he explained as he placed the exquisite art deco necklace around her throat. "Your gown is a very vintage design. These will complement it well."

Hermione had only seen pictures of necklaces as beautiful as the one around her throat. She stared at her reflection in a hall mirror transfixed. As she tried to imagine how many dozens of carats and how many hundreds of thousands of galleons were hanging from her neck, Lucius began connecting a bracelet to her wrist the likes she had never seen before. Five large marquise cut diamonds, at least three or four carats a piece, were set in beautiful open rectangular platinum links with diamonds covering every square millimeter. She would've estimated that she wore at least seventeen or eighteen carats on her wrist alone.

"These are absolutely beautiful, Lucius. I can hardly breathe."

Lucius smiled at her and she felt her stomach start turning somersaults.

"You are so beautiful in this dress that I can hardly breathe."

"Thank you."

She lowered her eyes to the floor suddenly feeling very exposed. Lucius took her by the hand to lead her downstairs. Before they exited the front door, Hermione drank her first dose of polyjuice potion for the evening.

"How do I look right now?" she asked when the transformation was complete, worried her hair was messed up or the dress no longer as flattering.

"Not as good as you looked upstairs," he replied. "But I daresay you will still turn quite a few heads."

Hermione tucked the potion vial into the beaded bag she still had stuffed in her bra. There was no telling how long they would be stuck at the ball so she packed many, many doses to be safe. She even had an extra flask strapped to her leg which made her feel very like Mad Eye Moody. Lucius charmed the flask to lightly buzz her leg every forty-five minutes to remind her to drink more in plenty of time before her hour was up.

Lucius led them both to the outer gates. Hermione hadn't been outside of the grounds in over three months and was surprised to find herself both excited and quite nervous. They both had an entire week to prepare themselves for the evening ahead, but even then they were still anxious.

"Are you ready?" Lucius asked taking her arm in his in preparation for Side-Along Apparition to the Lestrange family manor.

Hermione nodded and they were gone.

The reception celebrating the fall of Harry Potter and the rise of the Dark Lord was in full swing when Lucius and Hermione arrived at the gates of the immense manor. They were past "fashionably late" and well on to just being "rude". It had been Lucius' idea to arrive so late. He wanted to be there as little as possible and Hermione could not disagree with him one bit. Their arrival did not go unnoticed.

"Lucius! Miss Black!"

Rabastan met them just inside the gates. The grounds of the estate were teeming with hundreds of fashionably dressed witches and wizards. Every window in the manor house that rivalled the size of Malfoy Manor was brightly lit. Hermione looked around at the partygoers. It was a veritable "Who's Who" of everyone she hated fiercely in the world.

"You look absolutely stunning, Miss Black," exclaimed Rabastan. He leaned in to whisper. "See? I was paying attention to your gorgeous body during all of those visits. It fits you perfectly."

She desperately wanted to get away from the host as soon as possible. The way he was leering at her made her nauseous. Lucius had the same idea. Without relinquishing control of her arm, he steered them further into the grounds where the festivities were at their strongest. It took them almost half an hour to reach the refreshment table set up in the formal gardens due to the vast number of people who wanted to stop and greet Lucius. Hermione was introduced to at least ten known Death Eaters, the current, disgusting Minister for Magic and countless other Ministry officials in the amount of time it took her to arrive and then accept her first glass of champagne. She was ready to leave immediately.

"There is a hedge maze in the gardens," Lucius informed her in a whisper. "Stay away from it. I would not put it past Rabastan to trap you in there."

"Not to worry. After the Triwizard Tournament I will never enter in one of those horrid mazes again."

Lucius was satisfied with her response. She spent a few minutes sipping her champagne and surveying the crowd. Her stomach dropped when she caught sight of a stout, toad-like woman in a sickening pink floral gown with a bow in her hair. She hoped and prayed that Umbridge would remain on her side of the grounds. It would cause a scene if Hermione had to murder her in front of all of the other guests.

"Good evening, Miss Black."

Antonin Dolohov appeared at her side as if out of thin air. Hermione felt her heart begin to race. She would never get used to being in such close proximity to the man who once tried to murder her and now wanted to possess her.

"Good evening, Mr. Dolohov. Lovely party, is it not?"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders. Hermione got the impression that he would rather be just about anywhere else in the world than standing in the midst of the wizarding elite in starched dress robes. He was always such a quiet man in social situations.

"I would rather be sitting in Lucius' drawing room right now," he responded. "Too damn many people."

"I understand what you mean. Large crowds tend to make me nervous."

"We are of a like mind then, Miss Black. Crowds did not bother me so much in my youth, but then I spent many years living entirely by myself. The adjustment back into the rest of the world has been _difficult_."

Hermione felt her flask begin the buzz on her leg. Lucius turned away from the Ministry official he had been conversing with since they stopped moving to look at Hermione. Surprised to find her engaged in a conversation with Dolohov, he raised an eyebrow at her. She responded to him with the tiniest of shoulder shrugs that when unnoticed by Antonin.

"Isla, darling, I believe it is about time that you took more of your medicine," Lucius whispered to Hermione loud enough for only Antonin to hear. "The healer was very adamant that you continue to take your medicine on time this evening if you wanted to attend the party."

"Of course, Lucius, you're right," she responded. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Dolohov, but I must find a glass of water."

"I was very sorry to hear that you have been ill, Miss Black."

"Thank you, Mr. Dolohov. I should be fine."

Lucius whispered in her ear for her to head back further in the gardens behind several large topiaries. She should have ample privacy to take her potion. Hermione slipped away from the two men to retreat further into the gardens. Lucius kept his eyes on her as much as possible without drawing too much attention to her. Hermione heard him strike up a conversation with Antonin regarding his recent trip to Australia. A waiter passed by with several glasses of champagne. She took one knowing she would soon have to banish the taste of stewed turnips from her mouth once more. She was able to remove the vial from the bag hidden within her dress and take a dose without anyone seeing. Lucius pointed her to the perfect spot. None of the attendees were nearby.

"I was hoping we would be able to find a few minutes to be alone."

Rabastan came up behind Hermione as she was downing the entire glass of champagne in one swig. He appeared almost out of nowhere like Antonin had just minutes earlier. Hermione wondered if he had been watching her from a distance, waiting for a moment when she would be away from Lucius. She was fairly certain he had.

"Wonderful party, Mr. Lestrange," she said, slowly backing away from him. "Thank you for inviting me."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving you out, my dear."

For every step that Hermione took backwards away from him, he took one towards her. She was feeling very nervous being alone with this dangerous man. Where was Lucius when she needed him? She knew that he would come looking for her if she did not return within a few minutes, but based on the glint in Rabastan's eyes, a few minutes might be too late. He was closing the gap between them. Before Hermione could turn around, she backed up into a topiary statue in the shape of a large swan. Rabastan was only inches from her. She was trapped.

"Mr. Lestrange…"

"Please, call me Rabastan."

He placed his hands on her waist and pushed his body against hers. There was no way she was going to be able to get past him. He was a thin man, but his physical strength easily outmatched hers. His hands began to freely travel over her body.

"This dress is exquisite on you, Isla. I knew it would be." Rabastan leaned in and began kissing her neck. Hermione wanted to throw up. "The only way it could look any better is if it was rolled up in a ball on my bedroom floor."

"Rabastan, please…"

"Yes, remember my name. I want to hear you screaming it tonight."

His kisses moved up from her neck to her face. Hermione tried to push him away, but he was too strong. He did not even have to try to keep her stuck in the same position. His right hand brushed up against her breasts and his left hand was slowly pulling her dress up over her legs. She didn't know what to do. His mouth met hers in a rough kiss. Her dress rose higher and higher. He was going to do whatever he wanted with her and she had zero defense against him. Even her wand was tucked away in a pocket that she couldn't reach. She could feel the evidence of his desire up against her stomach.

"I've wanted you from the first time I saw you. You are gorgeous, do you know that?"

He captured her lips against in a fierce kiss. Her mouth was hurting. Rabastan did not seem to understand the concept of being gentle. He was hurting her and didn't even realize it. Her dress was over her hips and his hand was searching for the waistband of her knickers. Hermione continued to try to push him off of her with all of her strength, but Rabastan would not budge. Tears were streaming down her face and he did not even notice.

"I would give up all of my other women for you, Isla. I would devote myself entirely to you. Would you like that?"

"Rabastan, please stop…"

"I can't ever stop."

Hermione tried to move her knee to hit his squarely in the crotch, but he had her off balance. Any sharp movement on her part would end up with her on the ground and him landing completely on top of her. She closed her eyes and thought hard. This was not a moment for her to completely fall apart. She was not one of those weak, timid women who just allowed bad things to happen to them without fighting.

"Isla…"

Rabastan's sudden absence from her body came as a sudden shock to Hermione. She opened her eyes to see Rabastan sprawled on the ground with Lucius standing over him pointing his wand at his throat. The expression of pure, unadulterated hate and fury in Lucius' eyes made her shiver with fear. She had never seen this dangerous side of him. Based on the anxiety in Rabastan's face, neither had he. Raw magic crackled off of Lucius. His long hair was even starting to stand on its own.

"Are you all right, Miss Black?" Antonin's sudden appearance at her side caused her to jump. With deft and surprisingly gentle fingers, he tugged the skirt of her dress down to cover her modesty that Rabastan had only moments before been assailing.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Dolohov. I'm all right."

"Lucius, I think you should take Miss Black home."

Antonin spoke softly enough that Lucius did not hear him. Rabastan continued to lie on his back at Lucius' feet. Hermione placed a tender hand on Lucius' wand arm, willing him to lower his weapon. Her touch seemed to break him out of the trance he was under.

"Lucius, please take me home."

He lowered his wand and allowed Hermione to lead him away from the gardens. They did not say a word to anyone as they rushed their way through the party. The hour was growing late, but Lucius and Hermione seemed to be the only two celebrants making their way to the exit. Lucius was still crackling when they reached the estate gates. Knowing that his own magic was likely still volatile and therefore unreliable, Lucius allowed Hermione to Apparate them both home.

Neither of them spoke during the long walk up the driveway. By the time they reached the entrance hall Hermione was transformed back to her usual self. She ran her fingers through her hair to pull out the pins that had been holding her curls up. It was well after midnight and she was exhausted. The evening had been stressful. All she wanted was a long, hot bubble bath to relax away the tension she was feeling in every muscle of her body. She bid Lucius a good night and rushed up the stairs.

When she reached for the knob to her bedroom door, Lucius was right behind her. He placed a gentle hand on her arm to stop her. Hermione turned around to see the naked fury from just a short time earlier in the evening in his eyes had been replaced with desperation and anxiety to match her own.

"I should have gone with you," he whispered, his voice still managing to echo in the empty hallway.

Hermione caressed his cheek with a tender hand. Lucius closed his eyes at the unexpected touch.

"I am all right, Lucius."

"If I did not get there when I did…"

"Shh, Lucius, it's okay. I am all right."

Lucius opened his eyes. They were bright with unshed tears. Hermione wanted to reassure him that she was all right and take away any guilt he was experiencing. She moved her hand off of his cheek into his hair. The raw magic was still coursing through him. It needed an outlet before it burst inside of him. She smoothed down his hair that was still rising in the air as if under the effects of static electricity.

"Rabastan is a dangerous man. He could have really hurt you."

"Lucius, I'm all right."

"When I think what could have happened to you…"

Lucius threw his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. His grip was so strong that it was almost painful, but Hermione did not mind. She wanted him to hold her.

"I was so concerned with trying to get information from Antonin about your parents that I put you in harm's way. Can you ever forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive. I'm all right, Lucius. Truly."

"When I saw his hands all over you, I wanted to murder him right there. I think I might have if you did not stop me."

Lucius released her from his grasp, but did not move away from her. They stood inches apart in the darkened hallway for a long time simply staring at each other, neither knowing what to say to fill the stillness.

"I lost my mind for a minute."

He ran his fingers through her tangled hair, gently pulling out pins she missed and dropping them on the floor of the corridor.

"I never want to see another man touch you."

Hermione stared into his rapidly darkening eyes.

"I never want another man to touch me either."

She stepped closer to his body. Her stomach began to twist and her breathing became more labored. Lucius wrapped his arms back around her back, pulling her back into the safety of his chest. With a look of absolute yearning in his eyes, he brought his mouth crushing down to hers… finally. The kiss they shared was as different as possible from the one she experienced earlier in the evening. Lucius was all at once hesitant and demanding, gentle and brutal, and all together desperate. They stood in the hallway kissing for what seemed an eternity.

"Lucius?"

"Hmm?"

"Take me to bed."

Lucius led her into his bedroom by her hand, stopping every few feet to kiss her once more. By the time they reached the side of his bed, their hearts were both racing and they were both struggling to breathe normally. As he kissed her once more within the confines of his bedroom, he brought his hands up to her shoulders. He slipped both of his hands within the collar of the deep purple silk. With one rapid movement, he ripped the dress in two, pulling it off of Hermione's body.

"Lucius!" She was surprised by the savagery of the act.

"You will never wear this gown again." He ripped the sleeves off of her arms. "I never want to see it again."

With a few more sharp tugs punctuated by passionate kisses, Hermione stood in his bedroom wearing nothing but her underwear and his diamonds. She pushed him off of her for just a moment to undo the clasp of the priceless necklace she wore. Lucius immediately stopped her.

"No," he said. "I want you in diamonds and nothing else."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Hermione woke to the disconcerting feeling that she was being watched. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she could tell that there was at least one other pair of eyes focused intently on her body. Tilting her head slightly in the direction of the disturbance, she hesitantly pried her eyes open. She hadn't been wrong. A gorgeous pair of silvery grey eyes mere inches from her own were open and fixated entirely on her.

"Good morning," Lucius said. His usual confident air was replaced by a nervous, uncertain demeanor.

"Good morning."

Hermione smiled before leaning up to capture his lips in a short kiss. Lucius' confident air returned immediately and he moved his body closer to hers to continue and deepen the kiss she started. Several wonderful minutes later, Hermione snuggled close to Lucius' chest as they both tried to catch their breath.

"A girl could get used to starting her mornings off like that more often," Hermione teased.

"It would be my pleasure."

Neither was in a hurry to rush to get out of bed. The morning was still early. They had plenty of time to spare to just enjoy being in each other's presence.

"I was afraid last night was all one unbelievable dream," Lucius admitted after several minutes of silence between the new lovers.

"An unbelievably amazing dream," Hermione added.

She had been more than pleasantly surprised to learn the difference of an older man with vast amounts of experience and unlimited time in an extraordinarily comfortable bed and a sweaty, inexperienced teenager with a few stolen minutes at a time while their friend searched for firewood in a magic tent that smelled of cat urine. Her eyes had been opened the previous night to the revelation of what everyone always talked about. She had no idea one of the most basic biological functions could cloud her judgment, produce such exquisite toe-curling sensations and make even her stop thinking for a few moments. She had surprised herself with her boldness the previous night, but did not regret a second of it. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her entire body following her near sexual assault by Rabastan Lestrange and the scary, raw magic coursing through Lucius' entire body created ideal conditions for the most incredible, mind-blowing hours of her entire existence.

"When I woke up and saw you were still here," said Lucius as he pulled her still diamond-and-nothing-else clad body closer. "I was sure it had all been a dream. I was afraid to touch you out of fear that I would wake up to find myself all alone again."

"You are not alone, Lucius."

"No, I am not. Thank you."

"And after what you did last night," she continued. "It's going to take a hell of a lot to get rid of me now. I fear I may have found myself addicted."

His deep laugh shook her head lying on his chest. It was a sound Hermione knew she would never get tired of hearing. Hermione Granger learned her mission in life at that moment. Keep Lucius Malfoy laughing.

"You, my dear, are not the only one. I plan on many, many, _many_ repeats of last night."

Hermione leaned up to kiss him once more, convincing herself that she could drown in this man's affections and die happy.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," she replied.

* * *

Hermione and Lucius had two solid weeks to themselves with no interruptions or uninvited guests. They were both immeasurably pleased that Rabastan Lestrange had the good sense, or at least the healthy fear of Lucius, to not intrude on their solitude after the almost violent events of the grand reception. While they were pleased to not be disturbed by any Death Eaters or annoying Ministry personnel, they were both troubled by the virtual radio silence from the resistance. Within their own cocoon in Malfoy Manor, neither of them had heard anything from anyone. Remembering Neville's words that something big was about to happen, Hermione could not keep her mind from imagining all of the worst case scenarios.

"Care to tell me what had you so worried?" Lucius asked her on Saturday evening in the middle of May. They were both engrossed in the latest Transfiguration and Potions periodicals.

Hermione dropped the potions magazine onto the sofa beside her. She had read and reread the same paragraph about recent developments in a supposed cure for vampirism multiple times without retaining anything. Her mind was restless and it was obvious that she was unable to hide that fact from Lucius.

"Why haven't we heard anything from Neville or Kingsley or George?" she asked.

"It has only been a few weeks, Hermione," he responded. "I am certain there is nothing to worry about."

"Maybe."

She retrieved her magazine and tried to read the same article once more. After approximately thirty seconds, she dropped it again knowing her mind was too preoccupied to read. Lucius set his journal down with hers.

"Neville said something big was coming and that was six weeks ago," she continued. "Why haven't we heard anything? I can't stand this feeling of being left out."

"Believe me when I say I can most assuredly empathize."

"Don't get me wrong, Lucius. I have very much enjoyed these past few weeks alone with you…"

"As have I."

"But I can't shake this guilt at being safe and tucked away in our own little world when my friends are out there facing god knows what. What are they planning that is so big? Do they need help? When is it going to happen? _Has_ it already happened and it didn't work out like it was supposed to? Why has no one told us _anything_?"

Lucius kissed the top of her head in an effort to calm her down. She was well on her way to a full-scale panic attack if she didn't stop her line of thinking.

"I'm not used to being left behind," she whispered, immediately feeling like a petulant child.

"I understand that you feel useless, my darling, but we must trust that the resistance is well prepared to accomplish their goals without us. We may prove to be more of a hindrance than a help."

"Of course you're right, but…"

The rest of her sentence was cut off by the visitor alarms suddenly sounding. No one had bothered them for weeks. They almost forgot what to do. Lucius calmly reminded Hermione to take a swig of the potion she was still carrying around on her body. After the transformation into the object of Rabastan Lestrange's obsession was completed, Lucius calmly walked to the front door. Hermione stayed in the study but she still had a good view of the entrance.

"Good evening, Antonin," Lucius greeted. "I began to wonder if you had forgotten where I lived."

A small part of Hermione was relieved that the visitor was Dolohov instead of Rabastan. Only a small part. He was still a dangerous Death Eater determined to capture her after all.

"I have been out of the country for a few days," Antonin replied.

Lucius made to shut the front door behind Dolohov, but Antonin stopped him.

"I am not alone, Lucius."

Hermione could feel the atmosphere of the entire house change with those five words. Lucius' entire body tensed up and for a moment Hermione was afraid there would be a repeat of the crackling, raw magic outburst of a few weeks earlier. While the raw magic definitely _enhanced_ their carnal activities following the reception and near rape, Hermione could not be positive that this time Lucius wouldn't lose control and hurt someone or himself in the process. Sensing Lucius' abrupt change, Antonin reached for his wand, ready to stop him if needed.

"Rabastan wishes to apologize for his behavior," Antonin explained, his voice cool and detached despite the volatility of the circumstances he found himself in.

"I am not interested in his apology, Antonin," Lucius spat.

"I understand your reluctance, Lucius."

"Reluctance?! He tried to force himself on my goddaughter!"

"I am inclined to agree with you, Lucius," Antonin continued. "If it had been my goddaughter in Miss Black's position I would've behaved in the exact same way that you did."

"Then why are you here defending him?"

"Because you and I both know what a vulnerable state you are in."

Whatever Lucius was expecting Dolohov to say, that wasn't it. Hermione could sense his confusion from across the entrance hall.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Lucius.

"The moment the Dark Lord removed your mark, you became vulnerable to the likes of people like Rabastan. He hasn't forgotten how you used to treat him. How you behaved as if you were better than the rest of us because of your name, your money, your proximity to the Dark Lord," Antonin explained. "If Rabastan wished to, he could have you and your son executed. Then who would protect Miss Black? Rabastan would never allow her to return to her mother."

Hermione's mouth grew suddenly dry at Antonin's words.

"Come on, Lucius! You know how the game is played. You were once the master at it."

"Why are you so willing to help me, Antonin?"

"We were friends once. I've not forgotten that."

Lucius was fighting an internal battle to decide if he would take Dolohov's advice or risk whatever Lestrange might be capable of. After a few minutes, Lucius sighed and dropped his shoulders.

"All right, Antonin. I will allow him in."

As if on cue, a smirking Rabastan Lestrange entered the front door. No doubt he had been in a similar position as Hermione to see and hear everything without being seen or heard himself. In his hands he carried a bottle of some kind of alcohol that he immediately thrust into Lucius' hands. He also carried an ostentatiously large bouquet of breathtaking flowers that Hermione was certain were for her. Shuddering at the thought of having to be in his presence again, Hermione moved away from the door and returned to the sofa. She did not wish to hear the men speak. Several more minutes passed before Lucius entered the room again.

"They are in the drawing room," Lucius announced. "Rabastan would like to make a formal apology to you for the other night."

"Do I have to, Lucius?"

"Personally, I would rather you hexed his disgusting head off of his puny neck, but I am afraid Antonin is right. There is a game we must play whether we wish to or not."

Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't argue with him. This was all just one large game where the losers died and the winners lived to see another day. To protect Lucius and the life she had with him, Hermione knew she had no choice. She rose from the sofa, straightened her skirt and pushed past her lover in the grand entrance hall. Her shoes clicked across the floor with a deafening regularity. As she approached the door she reminded herself to take a deep breath before pushing it open.

Both men rose from their seats the moment Hermione entered the room. Careful to not show how anxious she was to be in Rabastan's presence so soon after he almost succeeded in raping her, she graciously accepted their greetings. Thankfully Lestrange was satisfied with simply kissing her hand once. He presented the bouquet to her with his _in_ sincerest apologies. Hermione placed the flowers on a side table before taking a seat in her usual chair.

"You both left the party at the worst possible time," Rabastan said after the awkward silence between the four of them became unbearable for him. "You missed all of the fireworks."

Lucius caught Hermione's eye with the barest hint of a smirk on his face. No, they had _not_ missed the fireworks that evening. They had their own private show upstairs. Hermione felt her cheeks blush and desperately hoped no one else noticed.

"You said earlier you were out of the country, Antonin," Lucius said in an attempt to turn the discussion away from _that_ night. "Where did you go?"

Antonin took a deep drink from his wine glass before answering.

"Russia," he responded, but did not elaborate.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Neither. My uncle died. I was his only surviving relative."

"I am very sorry for your loss," Hermione said granting the Death eater a small smile.

"Thank you, Miss Black, but we were not close. It did give me an opportunity to follow up on some rumors I have heard about revolutionary activity stemming from the country."

Hermione's insides froze at his words. Was he referring to the rumors of Percy Weasley rallying support in Russia to help the resistance? She desperately hoped Antonin found nothing.

"And were you able to learn anything?" she asked, surprising herself with her audaciousness.

"Unfortunately not, Miss Black. Either there is no truth to the rumor or they are simply too well organized at present."

"No need to worry, Miss Black," Rabastan added with a leer. "We wizards are more than capable of protecting our witches from any blood traitor rebels who might believe they can overthrow our Dark Lord."

To give herself something to do, Hermione got up from her chair to refill her own glass of wine. Her time living with Lucius had given her an appreciation for fine wine. She had also learned that a couple of glasses helped to stem the ever-present anxiety that constantly threatened to overtake her completely. She was refilling her glass when the alarms sounded again. Startled by the noise, she dropped the entire bottle to the floor with a resounding crash. In mere moments Antonin was at her side helping to clean up the mess.

"Dear dear, Lucius," Rabastan laughed. "It appears your own paranoia has startled Miss Black. Why the need for such harsh perimeter alarms? Are you hiding something you shouldn't be?"

Hermione feared her heart would beat right out of her chest. Lucius gave Rabastan an insincere smirk and headed for the front door to greet their new guest. She wasn't sure who it could possibly be. Their usual visitors were already present. Before she could do a mental rundown of every Death Eater still alive, she heard an extremely familiar voice in the hall.

"Good evening, Father."

She knocked her glass off of the table it had been resting on when she heard Draco's voice. What was he doing there? He had not visited the manor the entire time she had been living there. How could she possibly pull off this charade? Draco would know his own cousin!

"Careful, Miss Black," Antonin warned as he used his wand to repair the broken glass.

"He has an intruder alarm that doesn't even recognize his own son?" Rabastan asked. "I thought they were close."

"None of our business, Rabastan."

"Just curious is all."

The two Malfoys entered the room. Draco crossed the room to Hermione. He pulled her into a warm hug and kissed her cheek.

"What a pleasant surprise to find you here, Isla," Draco said. "I didn't know you were still visiting."

Hermione caught Lucius' eyes and could almost hear him tell her to play along. She didn't know what he told his son in the entrance hall. There hadn't been enough time for Lucius to tell him the truth.

"Oh, yes, Draco," she answered, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "I wasn't in a rush to hurry back. Lucius has been the consummate host."

Draco released her from the embrace to greet the other two men with firm handshakes.

"I am very sorry to interrupt," he said. "But I need to have a private word with my father. With school still in session and being Horace's apprentice, I get so little free time to visit. I have to come when I can."

"Of course," Rabastan replied. "Antonin and I will be glad to keep your cousin company while you and Lucius have a chat."

Lucius gave Hermione a final indiscernible look before exiting the room with his son. Suddenly quite nervous once more, Hermione tried to occupy her hands. She attempted to fill her recently repaired glass with more wine only to find the only remaining bottle was empty.

"It appears that we are all out of wine," she announced to the two wizards left. "I should go to the cellar to retrieve more. If you will both excuse me."

Rabastan quickly jumped from his chair…

"Allow me to assist you, Miss Black."

… and was knocked back down with a single swish from Dolohov's wand. Hermione had to resist the urge to laugh when she realized Rabastan was somehow stuck in the chair and unable to get back to his feet.

"Forgive me, Rabastan, but you do have an uncomfortable history with being alone with Miss Black," Antonin said. "I will provide Miss Black with the assistance she needs… _without fear of your clammy hands all over her!_ "

The last part of Antonin's sentence was directed at Rabastan in a harsh whisper but the sound was loud enough for Hermione to hear. She tried unsuccessfully to assure Dolohov that she required no help. Antonin would not hear of her skulking off to the sub-regions of the manor alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Dolohov, but it was really unnecessary of you to come. I've been down in the cellars many times."

It was, of course, a lie. She had only been down there a few times and never without Lucius for company. A memory of the last time she was down there with him a few days prior popped into her head and she hoped Antonin could not see how flushed her cheeks suddenly became. Once the initial barrier of the first touch was crossed, she and Lucius had been able to keep their hands and their lips to themselves.

"I don't trust you by yourself while Rabastan is around," Antonin admitted as they descended the cellar stairs. "He is like a dog with a bone. He won't stop until he devours it or until something new distracts him."

"If you don't trust him, why is he your friend?" She could not believe she was being so bold with this man who still terrified her.

Antonin stopped on the stairs abruptly enough that Hermione fell into him. He caught her and set her back on the stairs with gentle hands. The act surprised Hermione. This was a man who had murdered countless people in the past. He had a reputation for enjoying torturing Muggles. He tried to kill her in the Department of Mysteries and would've succeeded if she had been unable to cast a silencing spell on him. How could one person be so evil but then be capable of such tenderness?

"Lucius has no doubt told you something of mine and Rabastan's histories?" he asked.

"Yes, a little."

"As he should have considering we are such frequent visitors to his home."

Antonin clasped her hand in his to lead her down the stairs once more. She was a bit unnerved by the contact, but she was not scared. Unlike Rabastan, she knew that Antonin Dolohov was not interested in hurting her. She was grateful for the disguise the polyjuice potion provided her. Somehow she knew his feelings would be different if he was aware of who she really was.

"I spent many years locked up in Azkaban, Miss Black, only to get out for a little while and get locked back up in it. Like I told you the night of the reception, adjustment has been difficult. Rabastan provided me with a place to live when I had nothing. Now that I have a little bit more to my name he has continued to remain a loyal friend. I owe him a great deal."

Antonin released her hand from his the moment they reached the end of the staircase. Hermione lit all of the torches with her wand and crossed to the nearest wine rack. Lucius showed her what he always served their guests a few days earlier. The bottles were up high. Even on her tiptoes she was unable to reach. She started to summon the bottles until Antonin easily took a few down for her.

"Thank you. I think three should be plenty for the five of us."

"I agree," he replied. "You don't want to encourage Rabastan to stay any longer."

A giggle escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. With a quick look at Antonin, she saw a hint of a grin on his lips as well. _So there really is a human being under there after all?_

"May I ask an impertinent question, Mr. Dolohov?"

"You may."

"Why do you stay with Mr. Lestrange if his actions bother you so much?"

"Misguided sense of loyalty, I suppose. Sometimes I ask myself the same question."

"What would you rather do? Where would you rather be?"

The questions kept falling out of her mouth. She didn't understand why she was willingly engaging herself in a conversation with him. If she was smart, she would run back up the stairs as fast as she could and not spend another moment alone with this murderer.

"I just recently purchased a small cottage in the West Country. It should be ready to move into very soon."

"That sounds lovely. Somewhere quiet, I assume?"

"Yes. I'm sick to death of being around people."

"I understand. I wouldn't mind running off and disappearing from the world too at times."

Antonin gave her another small smile before gesturing her towards the staircase.

"We better get you back upstairs before Lucius comes searching. As entertaining as it was watching Rabastan lie in the dirt, I would rather not find myself at the business end of Malfoy's wand."

They climbed the staircase in silence. Both of them were wrapped up in their own minds to keep a conversation going. By the time they crossed the expanse of the house back to the drawing room, Lucius and Draco had completed their private discussion. Draco rose from his chair to give his "cousin" another kiss on the cheek before making his excuses to head back to Hogwarts.

"We were just about to send out a search party, weren't we, Lucius?" Rabastan teased. Antonin glared at him before waving his wand to end the sticking charm from earlier.

"I'm very sorry to keep you both waiting," Hermione apologized. "This is a very large house."

Lucius asked her if she was all right with a single lifting of his eyebrows. She smiled at him to reassure him that she was perfectly all right.

"It's getting rather late and I find myself very tired," she announced. "Would you gentlemen please excuse me?"

All three stood from their chairs. The guests wished her a good evening before Lucius walked her over to the hidden staircase behind the bookshelf. Instead of simply shutting the door behind her, Lucius started to follow her up the stairs. When the bookshelf clicked shut, he pulled her close to him and kissed her.

"Are you sure you are all right, my darling? Dolohov did not do anything?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Lucius. I promise. He was a perfect gentleman. I'm just tired all of a sudden."

He kissed her again and the two voices in the drawing room met their ears. Lucius and Hermione stopped moving to hear what was being said.

"You two were certainly gone a long time, Antonin," Rabastan teased. "Was she a little more willing with you than she was with me?"

Lucius hand tightened on Hermione's waist. She smoothed his hair and kissed his head.

"Absolutely not, Rabastan. I wouldn't try to take advantage of a young woman who was _clearly_ not interested in me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rabastan was clearly insulted.

"It means that if you opened your eyes half as much as you opened your mouth, you might learn something about the people around you."

"Like what?"

Antonin sighed.

"Like how those two are clearly sleeping together."

"You must be joking, old friend. That's ridiculous." Rabastan laughed.

"I've noticed something between the two of them for a while now. Glances at each other, quick touches when they think no one sees them."

"You have lost your mind, Antonin. I've never noticed any of that."

"Use your brain, Lestrange! She is an attractive woman living alone with an attractive man. She's been here for months and with the exception of your train wreck of a party, no one has ever seen them out of the manor together."

"You've said yourself that the girl is shy."

"Then explain what happened at your party to me? Why was Lucius so upset with you?"

"I've already apologized for that, Antonin! I had too much to drink and she smelled… _delicious_."

Hermione shuddered in disgust. Lucius kissed her cheek.

"Lucius wanted to kill you. He might've even done it if she didn't stop him. That is not the behavior of two people who are only sort of fond of each other because her late father was cousin to his late wife."

Rabastan stopped speaking for a few moments, likely to let everything sink in. It did not take him long before he started laughing again at the thought.

"Ridiculous! Absolute rubbish!"

"Then explain to me why she was so jumpy this evening?"

Silence again.

"She was perfectly fine and normal until the alarms went off. You wondered why he had alarms set up to warn when his own son arrived and you thought that was strange. Then when she heard Draco's voice in the hall she dropped her bloody glass! It's obvious that they have been sneaking around having an affair for months and the son has no clue."

"Sounds to me, Antonin, like you've been reading too many witches' novels."

"It also explains why they haven't been seen out in public together except for that night you practically threatened him with violence if they didn't attend your damned party," Antonin continued. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but as long as Lucius is around, Miss Black has eyes for no one else."

"Well, then maybe I need to make it so Lucius isn't around anymore."

The threat made Hermione's skin break out in goose bumps. Rabastan was not a man to trifle with. Lucius leaned down to capture her mouth in a passionate kiss once more.

"Go to bed, my darling. I will be fine. I will meet you up there as soon as I can."

With another kiss Hermione climbed the stairs the rest of the way to the second floor. She wanted to kill Rabastan. How dare he come into this home and threaten to get rid of Lucius? It was unthinkable. Her irate thoughts occupied her completely until she arrived in the second floor corridor. She pushed the door to the master suite open.

"Well, well, it looks like my suspicions were correct."

Draco was seated on the foot of the large bed. He must have doubled back to a side door to sneak back into the house when no one was looking. Hermione froze in the doorway. She wasn't sure how to proceed.

"I suspected you were sleeping with my father."

"No, we're…"

"Don't lie to me! What other reason could you possibly have to enter his private room at night? You are certainly no house elf warming up the sheets or turning back the covers."

"Draco…"

His name just slipped out of her mouth. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to him. Everything was happening so fast. She didn't know what to do.

"That is something else that is bothering me," he continued. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I certainly have no idea who you are."

Hermione said nothing. He couldn't know the truth. She wasn't sure he could be trusted to keep the secret of her identity.

"Clever idea though, I must say. Polyjuice, is it?"

She nodded despite her better judgment.

"My cousin Isla would _never_ set foot back in this house again. Clever of my father to attempt to conceal you, whoever you are, as a copy of her. She loudly proclaimed to my entire family when I was fourteen that she would never return to this house as long as my father was alive. Clever. Keeps the real Isla from just showing up one day."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't lie to me!"

His voice was the same voice she remembered from school. How many times had he screamed at her or insulted her or made her life misery with just the simple use of his voice?

"The question now remains is _why_ is my father hiding you. Who are you?"

She was not going to say a word.

"Why go to the trouble of hiding you in plain sight? I saw a photo of you and Father in the Daily Prophet after Lestrange's party. Completely shocked me. Almost choked on my pumpkin juice. Knew it couldn't really be my cousin. Then I remembered a nasty habit of my father's and it all made sense."

Draco rose from the bed and crossed the room to stand just inches from her face.

"Father likes to keep trophies of all of his women. Keeps locks of their hair as a souvenir to remember them whenever he is done with them. I stumbled upon them once when I was young and never forgot the pride he showed in explaining to me what they were. No doubt he has a lock of your own real hair locked away somewhere too."

Draco reached over to roughly pull her hair.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Why would he go to so much trouble to keep you hidden?"

"Please stop!"

"Who are you?! Who could be so undesirable that my father has to hide you with polyjuice potion?"

The moment the word "undesirable" came out of his mouth, Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Bloody hell! Granger?" His tone when he said her name was soft, no malice left in it.

Hermione did not know how to respond. Should she admit who she really was? She was in such danger right now. If Draco could not be trusted, he would simply have to go downstairs to announce who he found upstairs. Yes, his father would try to stop him, but Lucius would be outnumbered. Rabastan was looking for an excuse to injure or even kill Lucius. This would be an excellent opportunity. And then Antonin would have her… for whatever plans he had.

"Please don't tell anyone!" she begged in a whisper.

At the last possible second she decided to trust him. She couldn't explain why she did so. Something in his eyes when he said her name maybe. The moment the truth came out she was terrified that she made a mistake. Tears began freely falling from her eyes. Draco did something completely out of character. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

"Luna will be so glad to hear you're okay," he whispered. "She has been so worried about you."

Hermione pushed herself gently out of Draco's arms. She couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin that frequently called her 'Mudblood' and who attacked her in the Room of Requirement during the Battle of Hogwarts, was _hugging_ her. It was unreal! She must have fallen and hit her head on something. Some people just simply do not change.

 _But you share his father's bed every night, Hermione. Are you so certain that people do not change?_

"I didn't know Father was helping," Draco admitted, letting his arms fall off of Hermione. "How long have you been here?"

"Since late January. He saved me. I was moments away from being captured and he saved me."

"I came here tonight to ask if he would hide someone for me for a few days."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you. Honestly, it would be best if neither of you ever saw them. It's much easier to say you haven't seen someone when you haven't actually seen them. This house is large enough I could hide an army in here without anyone knowing."

Draco began to pace the room nervously. Hermione could feel that the effects of the polyjuice potion were wearing off. Every few moments Draco turned to look at her again, almost as if he could hardly believe he was standing with Hermione Granger in his father's bedroom.

"You may be aware of this, Hermione, but something big is being planned. I don't have a lot of information. It's best that I don't, but be prepared."

"Are _you_ the one on the inside of the Umbridge Home?" she demanded, vaguely remembering the conversation she had with George when she had only just arrived to the manor. "We heard something was going to happen, but no one will tell us anything!"

"I'm not the only one anymore," he answered. "There's more. I will make sure that Weasley gives you more information. I can't imagine being cooped up here with no news. It must be maddening."

Draco crossed to an armchair near the fireplace where he'd placed his travelling cloak. He fastened it in preparation to leave.

"I'm headed to see Luna right now."

"Please give her my love."

"Of course." He smiled a warm, genuine smile at her for the first time in their association. Six years of schooling he had never once grinned at her that way. "She is going to be so happy."

Draco pulled her back into another embrace. Hermione wasn't certain she would ever get used to displays of affection from the tormentor of her teenage years. He turned to the door, but before he opened it to leave, he looked back over his shoulder at her.

"We will have to leave the discussion as to why you are so comfortable in my father's room for another visit, I'm afraid."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The morning of June 1st was one of those beautiful mornings where the sun was warm and shining and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Hermione would've loved to spend the early part of the day rambling the estate and enjoying the cooperative weather, but in order to do so she would have to disguise herself as Isla Black-Fawley once more. She had been reluctant to take a dose of the potion since her conversation with Draco. At least her question as to why Lucius always seemed uncomfortable when she was transformed into his goddaughter had finally been answered. She would've been uneasy too if her current lover frequently took doses of a potion that would turn him into the spitting image of Ronald Weasley.

Hermione attacked the eggs she was scrambling with a renewed vigor. She hadn't told Lucius that she knew about his disgusting stash of hair clippings from his past conquests. It was too disturbing of a discussion to have at present. She informed him when he came to bed that night of Draco's visit that she had spoken to his son and now there was an additional person in on the secret of her true identity. Lucius could tell there was more on her mind, but he did not push her for answers. He had the experience of over twenty years of marriage to learn when it was best to wait for the other person in the relationship to open up when they were ready.

She wasn't sure she would ever be ready to broach the subject with him. There was an entire history with that woman that she knew nothing about. While a part of her knew that it was irrational to be jealous of a woman from his past, she couldn't help it. Thankfully she hadn't been forced to take any potion since that night because of a lack of visitors. Neither of them knew why Antonin and Rabastan were seemingly avoiding the manor. Hermione hoped that after the conversation she and Lucius overheard that Rabastan was attempting to move on with his obsession. The alternative of the malevolent, foul wizard formulating a plan to remove Lucius from the equation was too upsetting to contemplate. She trusted that Lucius had been able to survive forty-five years in that harsh world by being perfectly able to take care of himself, but she still worried nonetheless.

The eggs were finished the moment before Lucius walked into the kitchen. He had an innate sense of knowing exactly when to arrive for food. Hermione had a theory that all men were born with this intuition. Certainly Ron was. Lucius was in a disgustingly good mood and Hermione found herself resenting him for it.

"Good morning, my dear," he greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a light tap on the bottom. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Good morning, Lucius. Fine."

He chose to ignore her terse response in favor of at least false harmony so early in the morning. There would be plenty of time later to hash out what had been on her mind lately to cause an almost complete turnaround from their blissful first few weeks of intimacy. Lucius was an intelligent man. He knew that something happened the night of his son's visit to put her out of sorts. Ordinary men would've just placed her irritable moods to a biological process, but he was no ordinary man. He understood the intricacies of the female mind better than many mortal wizards. It was a study he had undertaken from the time he was twelve years old and the beautiful Narcissa Black was sorted into the same House he was.

"Would you care to take a walk around the grounds?" Lucius asked moments after Hermione banished two plates to the plank table in the kitchen.

"Not if I have to take polyjuice," she answered while she ungracefully plopped down in the chair across from his.

"That would be the only safe way to maneuver around, Hermione. You are aware of that fact."

Hermione sighed and took a bite of eggs to occupy her mouth for a moment.

"Of course I'm aware, Lucius," she snapped. "I just am sick to death of parading around as that… _woman_. I don't even know her and she's caused me nothing but trouble."

Lucius narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly to study her. Hermione could feel his eyes on her and wondered when he would finally lose his self-control and use magic to delve into the depths of her psyche. She was surprised he hadn't done it already.

"Did Draco tell you something when he spoke with you?"

Lucius asked the question with a calm tone, but Hermione could see the tension building in his shoulders and neck. Hermione dropped her fork with a _clang!_ on her plate before glaring up at him, almost daring him to use Legilimency to find out exactly what she was thinking.

"He explained to me how you were able to procure so much of Isla's hair to use in the polyjuice potion without fear of running out."

He narrowed his eyes further. His breathing became less stable as he struggled to rein in his temper.

"And what exactly did my son tell you?"

"He told me that you keep locks of hair of women that you've bedded as souvenirs. Can you deny it?"

"I have no reason to deny the truth."

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled it in a huff. She could feel the temperature in her cheeks rising.

"That's disgusting, Lucius!"

"I am inclined to agree with you," he replied, catching her completely off guard. "Like I have said on numerous times before, my past actions are not necessarily actions that I am proud of."

"So you willingly admit that you had sex with your goddaughter? The same woman you have been forcing me to parade around this house and Lestrange's house as?"

Hermione could feel the potentially explosive magic that always seeped out of her when she was upset start to manifest. At least that was one thing that she had in common with Lucius. Neither of them could completely control the raw magical properties in their blood when riled to a certain point. She had been struggling with control since she blew up her first window when she was very young.

"I will willingly admit that I used to keep locks of hair of women that I had intimate relations with, yes," he answered. "But I _never_ had sex with Isla. Not even once. Did not even contemplate doing so."

"Then why do you have so much of her hair if she wasn't one of your trophies?" She spat the words out, ignoring the pained expression on his face.

"Isla used to visit once a year in the summer after school was let out," he explained. "She takes after her mother in all of the very worst possible ways. Eleanor Fawley was the most vindictive, petty, underhanded witch I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. We were in the same year at Hogwarts. Same House. She was repulsive in personality, but utterly beguiling in looks. The older boys in our house, Rabastan included amongst them, were besotted with Eleanor. Narcissa's cousin Arcturus was the one who emerged victorious, even though I would wager everything I have in Gringotts right now that she was responsible for his untimely death."

Lucius took a short break from his narrative to continue his breakfast. Hermione could feel her nerves calming by infinitesimal amounts, but her hair was still static from the energy she could not control.

"When Isla was nineteen she came to visit for the last time. She was every inch the same as her mother. Always trying to use her body to get her way. The first time she tried to throw herself at me was the very first night she was in the manor. I was appalled and told her so.

"Isla spent the remaining month of her visit trying to seduce me. I am not proud to admit that she almost succeeded a few times. Narcissa and I were going through one of our _cold_ patches and there were times when I would enter my private bedroom to find Isla waiting for me naked in my bed. I cursed and hexed her more times than I can even recall, but still she was relentless. I could not even take a simple shower without fear of her coming in after me!"

Hermione used the lull in his narrative to summon more scrambled eggs across the kitchen with her wand. When his plate was full once more and he had the fortification of a few more bites of food within his stomach, Lucius continued with no interruptions. It was indicative of how interested in the topic Hermione was that she did not stop to ask a bunch of questions.

"Somehow Isla discovered my stash of hair, which I would like to point out, has been thoroughly destroyed. I, too, am disgusted that I ever thought such behavior was appropriate."

Hermione was pleased to hear his confession. The knot in her stomach began to loosen even further.

"Isla kept adding her own hair to my collection. When I threatened her to stay out of my belongings, she just laughed and told me that she was helping me get a head start on continuing my collection. I told her repeatedly that I was not interested in her, had never been interested in her and would never be interested in her. She was inexorable.

"The last night of her visit before she was set to return home, she tried one final time. She tried to drug me with a lust potion in my wine over dinner! How she could be so bold I have no idea. I noticed the change in the taste of the wine before I had more than just a drop of it on my tongue. It was not difficult to figure out it was her. She was watching me from her side of the table with an almost maniacal fervor to make certain I imbibed the wine.

"I threw the adulterated glass of wine at her, shocking the entire family. I told her that I never wanted to see her again and she was to leave immediately. She screamed that she would never set foot back in this house again as long as I was alive. If she was trying to wound me, she failed dismally. That is exactly what I wish her to do. I never want to see her again as long as I live."

"Then why use her as the person I need to transform into?" Hermione asked. She finally understood why he was so uncomfortable in her presence every time she transformed into his hated goddaughter.

"Isla was the only person who would make sense and the only person I still had access to hair from. She is a family member, of sorts, that I never have to worry about coming back to the manor. She is happily ensconced in that hateful colony in Salem proudly flaunting her thousands of years of blood purity. If a random person that no one had ever seen or heard from was found to be living alone with me in my manor, it would cause some uncomfortable attention and questions."

"As if Rabastan Lestrange wasn't uncomfortable enough attention as it is…"

"I have often thought it perfectly ironic that the very person who would be _perfect_ for Rabastan is my hated goddaughter. If they ever had the misfortune to meet, they would become a powerful couple."

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"Do you feel at least a little better after my confession?" Lucius asked, coming around the table behind her to kiss her neck.

Hermione could simply nod her head as the ministrations of his tongue on the sensitive flesh behind her ear only allowed a moan to escape her. Lucius cleared the breakfast plates from the table with a wave of his wand. In one swift motion he had Hermione laid across the table, his body hovering delightfully above hers. His practiced hands roamed her body while his experienced lips found hers.

"Damn it!"

Lucius stopped his movements the moment a silver, smoky coyote appeared in the kitchen. Still lying on top of Hermione, he turned towards the patronus.

" _Malfoy, three at the gates. Please let us in."_

Hermione could've sworn that George's patronus gave her a calculating look with a single raised eyebrow before disappearing. Lucius rose from the table, offering a hand to help Hermione back up as well.

"I will make some tea," she offered.

Lucius nodded and swept out the kitchen door, waving his wand and muttering the incantations necessary to bring down the intruder alarms momentarily. Hermione was pleased to have a task set for her that she could occupy her mind with in the moments leading up to the visitors arriving. Lucius had given her a lot to think about. She was excited to know that she was about to be in the presence of three resistance members, George one of them. Perhaps they were finally coming to let them in on what they had been working so secretly on for the past several months.

"'Mione!" George wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her into the air the moment he crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

She just laughed. It was nice to forget for even a moment that they were standing in the confines of the imposing Malfoy Manor and not in the warmth of the Burrow. George held her close for a warm embrace before dropping her unceremoniously to the floor. Angelina was there to keep her from falling.

"Angelina! How are you?" Hermione asked as she pulled the other girl into a tight hug.

"Wonderful, Hermione! We have so much to tell you."

Hermione looked towards the doorway where Lucius was standing with an additional person she had only met once before.

"Hermione, you remember Mr. Sloane?"

Ryan winked at Hermione from the doorway. She returned his grin with one of her own and ignored Lucius' annoyed expression when she threw her arms around the man who helped save her from Antonin Dolohov and Albert Runcorn on that freezing January night. She had been worried about him since that night, but wasn't sure she really wanted to know the details of his involvement and the possible consequences he suffered. It was a boon to her happiness to know that he was all right.

"I have been worried about you!" She chastised him. "What happened to you that night?"

Lucius led everyone over to the kitchen table to continue the discussion. Hermione summoned the tea things for everyone with a simple wave of her wand.

"I'm pleased you remember me, Miss Granger," Ryan replied, winking at her once more. Hermione felt her cheeks flush. A tea cup shattered and Angelina whispered a hasty _reparo_ spell.

"How could I forget you? You helped save my life! I could be… somewhere just dreadful right now without you."

Lucius cleared his throat. Hermione turned in his direction to see Angelina hand him a cup full of tea. His face was impassive, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. She gave him a warm smile before turning her attention back to Ryan.

"I was simply pleased to be in the right place at the right time," Ryan answered.

"When Dolohov and Runcorn both started chasing me I was sure that they'd done something to you."

"Nothing to worry about. Just the mildest stinging hex. They assumed that I was just another one of the annoying drunks that roam around the city streets late at night. I wasn't hurt."

"Good. I'm very glad to hear that."

George cleared his throat in an attempt to capture the attention of the group that was now silent. It took a few tries, but after a minute or so all eyes were focused on the redhead.

"Hermione, Lucius, I'm aware that I owe you something of an apology," George announced.

"For what, George?" Hermione asked.

"We've been keeping you both out of the information loop for months. This wasn't fair of us," he continued. "It was recently brought to my attention that tucking you both away in this manor with no information was, uhh, how was it put? _Maddening_?"

Draco must have had the conversation with the remaining Weasley twin that he promised Hermione he would have. She was thankful. It was indeed quite maddening to not know what was going on in the world around them. Hearing from Neville and Hannah that something big was about to happen and being promised news quite soon, but never actually hearing anything was enough to make even the strongest person go a little nuts. She was very thankful indeed for Draco Malfoy's insistence that George share information. She and Lucius both were frustrated at being left out of everything.

"We have been interested, of course, to know what was being planned and if there was anything that we could do to help," replied Lucius. "Hermione and I have heard nothing for two solid months."

"I understand it has been frustrating," continued George. "I'm afraid we've not been taking how all of this would affect you both into consideration. So much has been going on."

"Like what? Tell us what is happening, please!" Hermione was surprised at the vehemence she put into her request. If someone, anyone, didn't explain to her exactly what everyone had been so damned busy with, she was afraid she might hex the next person who mentioned there had been so much going on.

George was used to Hermione's outbursts. So was Angelina. Only Ryan and Lucius seemed the least bit uneasy with her tone. Ryan had a small half-smile on his face when he looked across the table at the young woman practically fuming. Lucius looked at her too with an impassive mask on his face. He was not as easy around the resistance members as Hermione was. He hadn't grown up with most of them and there had been entire blocks of his life in which he actively worked _against_ them.

"We are raiding the Umbridge Home in a few days," George announced with very little emotion.

"But that's wonderful!" Hermione answered. "How are you going to do it? When are you going to do it? Who all will be there?"

She had about a thousand more questions that she wanted to ask, but Lucius' gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her babbling. He left his arm around her shoulders, a gesture that the other three seated at the table did not miss. George narrowed his eyes a little bit at the display of affection before continuing on.

"We are not sure of the exact day yet. That will have to be decided at the absolute last moment," he explained. "We have someone on the inside who will tell us when they have the fewest number of guards on duty. The Umbridge Home has frequent staff meetings and other training sessions that could create a potential conflict. If there are _too_ many people on duty at the time, we may not be able to complete our plans."

"But do you have enough people to get inside?" She couldn't help herself from asking the question that had been looming over her the most. What if they didn't have enough help? Everyone in the resistance involved with the raid would be arrested or worse.

"Don't worry, 'Mione. We are disgustingly organized," George replied. "The logistics of most of the raid have been handled by Percy. We have Plan A, B, C, D, E, F and probably all the way to Plan Triple Z, if needed. He has been a huge asset."

"Where is he? Kingsley said he thought he was in Russia."

George wasn't annoyed by her outbursts. He was too used to her to expect her to behave any other way.

"He has been. When the Battle was lost, he was able to sneak out of the castle. He is the only reason the Patil twins were able to make it to safety. The three of them were able to fight their way out together. Without Perce, they would probably be locked up in the Umbridge Home together. Once he made sure they were safe with some of their distant relatives in India, he headed to Russia. He has a lot of connections in that country."

"I'm so glad to hear that he is all right."

"He's better than all right," George said with a smirk. "You should meet his fiancée. She is gorgeous!"

Angelina elbowed him in the ribs gently and rolled her eyes.

"Nowhere near as beautiful as my Angie, of course, but I'm sure she will bring my older brother some happiness."

"How do you plan on breaking into the Home?" Lucius asked. "I have been in there. It seems deceptively undermanned, but I am certain that is not the case."

"You would be absolutely correct, Lucius. The building itself is covered in some extraordinary wards and protections that many have never seen before. It's actually pretty fascinating how they've been able to keep the building so protected. We have a team of curse breakers who have been studying the building and the plans we've been able to steal out of the Ministry. It will be hard work and I cannot even imagine being able to help, but Bill assures me that his team will be able to do it."

"Bill is back in the country?" Hermione was pleased to hear that he was obviously alive and doing well, but she did not like the thought of one more Weasley in danger.

"Of course he is. Fleur had to stay back with her cousins due to the baby, but Bill has been working on studying the wards for months now. We were able to get some help from a Ministry insider. Top secret. If he is caught they take him straight to the Kiss without a trial. Brave man, but from what I heard he has a teenaged daughter too. Scared to death that there might ever be an instance where she would end up alongside the rest of the poor girls."

No one said anything for a few moments. There was no need to.

"So, we have the finest curse breakers ready to take down the wards and other protections necessary the night of the raid," continued George. "There usually is just a very small amount of staff still left inside the building in the middle of the night. Mostly just a few guards and some medical staff in case of emergency."

"What about the _visitors_?" Lucius asked. He had not seen many when he was there for his first and only visit, but he was certain that due to the silencing spells on all of the rooms that there were more people inside than he ever saw.

"Good question, Lucius. Most of the _visitors_ are high ranking Ministry personnel and Death Eaters. There is a Ministry-wide meeting planned for some night in the next coming week. They don't advertise the date until the day of to prevent any kind of full-scale attack on the Ministry. When we hear from one of our Ministry contacts when the meeting will be, that is when we strike.

"As far as for the Death Eaters… we have a _diversion_ planned for that time as well. Can't tell you much about it because I frankly don't know what Kingsley has up his sleeves. He's taken over that part of the plan. He and his group will create a well-timed diversion near Hogwarts that will draw all of the Death Eaters away from the Home.

"That should hopefully just leave a few random visitors in that we are certain we can take care of on our own."

"I hope you're right, George."

"Each of the young ladies has been given a silver bracelet that keeps them locked in their rooms," added Lucius. "How do you intend to get those off?"

"One of our inside guys has been making spare keys. We will be able to remove the bracelets once we get inside the building."

"And what happens to the girls when you get them out? Where do they go?"

"That is where Percy has been a lifesaver. He has compiled a list of safe houses all over Russia. We have been able to get reports on which of the ladies are pregnant and how far along they are, etc. Percy has host families scattered all over Russia that will be taking care of anywhere from two to five girls at once, depending on the medical care that they need. He has a lot of friends and connections within the mediwizard community in Russia. They have been matching the girls with the right homes."

"Why are the Russians so anxious to help?" asked Lucius. "They are not usually so open to assist."

"There's an enormous fear in that country right now, Lucius, that what is happening over here could somehow make its way over there. Already some members of the Russian Ministry of Magic have been visiting our Ministry to discuss this program. There is a rumor that their equivalent to our Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been on an unofficial tour of the facility. They've been experiencing a problem in that country with a drop in magical births.

"Percy has been able to connect with a group of Russian witches and wizards that are willing to do whatever it takes to prevent this sort of prison from opening up in their country. They are convinced that if their government sees how easy it is taken down that they will stop considering opening one in their own country. If this raid is successful, we will owe them a great deal."

"So are all of the girls going to Russia? What if they aren't pregnant?" asked Hermione.

"If they aren't pregnant, we still want them to go to one of the safe houses," explained Angelina. "If only for a short period of time. You can understand, Hermione, or at least try to understand what they have been through. Even if they aren't pregnant, they will all have been raped and forced to undergo difficult and invasive medical procedures. They will need some help, even if it is not entirely physical. Once the Russian healers have cleared them, they will be able to rejoin their families, if they are abroad."

"We haven't worked out all of the details on what happens to the ladies once we get them out of the country, Hermione," Ryan added. "The important thing is to just simply _get_ them out. Very little could be much worse than what they are currently experiencing."

Hermione certainly couldn't argue with their logic. Lucius squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and pulled her closer to him. She appreciated the comforting display of affection, even if it made others seated at the table a little uncomfortable. George's eyes narrowed once more, reminding Hermione startlingly of his mother. Ryan kept his eyes firmly on the table ahead of him. Only Angelina cut her eyes towards Hermione with a smirk on her lips.

"How are you getting these witches to Russia? It is a long journey and Apparition is not always safe for unborn babies," Lucius asked after a short pause.

"We've organized dozens of portkeys," Angelina replied.

"How? You have to get special permission from the Ministry to organize those. How are you doing it?" Hermione asked, concerned that there was a giant flaw in their plan to whisk the witches away to safety.

"We have someone inside the Department of Magical Transportation, Portkey Office. They've been working on them for weeks with the coordinates that Percy has provided," answered George.

"How were you able to get someone on the inside of _that_ department? How can you be sure that you can trust them not to tell what they are doing?"

"Oh, well, uhh," George stalled. "It's nothing that a well-placed Imperius Curse can't take care of. Am I right, Lucius?"

Lucius nodded once in agreement. It was something of a terribly kept secret that Lucius had been responsible for casting Imperius spells on a great number of Ministry employees during the First and the Second Wizarding War. Hermione could barely contain her rage at hearing that Unforgivable Curses were being utilized in the plan to free the witches incarcerated in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies.

"The Imperius Curse? Are you joking, George?" Her question came out in a shriek.

"Keep your knickers on, Hermione," he responded. "We did it at his request. If he gets caught he wants to be able to deny that he had any part of the scheme. He has three daughters and doesn't want a single one of them to be locked up."

"But using an Unforgivable? Surely there is another way."

"Possibly, but if you care to recall, 'Mione, I have nothing left to lose." George's voice was low and a bit scary. He didn't sound like the lovable troublemaker she'd known for so many years of her life. "If I get caught, it won't be Azkaban for me. I'm to be taken straight to You-Know-Who and murdered immediately. Just like Mum. If Angelina gets caught and this place is still in existence, she gets sent there. I can't bear the thought of her inside that place! If I have to Imperius, Crucio or even Avada my way through this, I _will_. I will do everything in my power to get all of those poor girls out of that hellhole."

She couldn't argue with him anymore. He was absolutely right. Given the circumstances, she knew she would behave in a very similar manner. All Hermione had to worry about though was herself. Lucius' gentle rubbing of her arm with his hand reminded her that she was wrong. She wasn't just worrying about herself anymore. Turning towards Lucius' worried face, she gave him a small smile and almost felt a little bit better.

"I want to go with you when you raid the Home," Hermione announced when the silence around the table had become unbearable.

"No!"

"Absolutely not!"

George's and Lucius' responses overlapped each other. Neither man hesitated for a moment when she spoke. It would have been endearing if it hadn't also have been so damned annoying. Couldn't they understand that she was tired of being cooped up inside that beautiful home contributing nothing to the outside world? As much as she loved spending time with Lucius, she wanted to get out in the world and do something! Lucius was limited in his own movements, but at least most afternoons he was able to get outside. She was stuck in the house all day every day with no end of her practical imprisonment in sight. She needed this.

"I'm not asking for permission!" she spat back at the two men. "I want to help. I want to do something."

"No, Hermione, it is way too dangerous. You need to stay here where Lucius can keep you protected."

"I am in complete agreement with Mr. Weasley, Hermione. You need to stay here."

"I appreciate that you both are trying to keep me safe, but I've made up my mind. I am going to help."

Ryan and Angelina gave Hermione matching expressions showing how impressed they were of her. The other two men continued to speak over each other explaining all of the reasons why she needed to remain home. Finally, Hermione stood up from her chair so abruptly that the seat hit the stone floor with a large crash.

"That is enough!" Both men immediately stopped talking. "This is my life you two are so insistent on running for me. There has to be some way that I can help with the raid. Something I can do! I cannot stand to just sit back and wait to hear if it was successful or not. Do you understand how many people I know and love that are trapped inside that building? How many people I know and love will be involved in the dangerous mission to infiltrate it and shut it down? I will not sit comfortably at home with a glass of wine to wait for news. I _will_ be there."

No one knew what to say at her outburst. It was clear just by looking at Lucius and George that they were both prepared to continue to argue the point until they were able to convince Hermione to stay out of harm's way.

"We will keep her on the outskirts," Ryan finally announced. "Women aren't magically able to enter the building without the permission of the Ministry anyway. We can put her in as safe a place as we can find to be one of our lookouts."

"No, absolutely not!" Lucius slammed his hand down on the table. Hermione turned to glare down at the wizard.

"I do not require your permission, Lucius," she replied coolly.

"That could work," agreed Angelina, tactfully ignoring the exchange between the two lovers. "We need more witches to keep the perimeter around the building secure. Hermione would not be in the midst of any fighting. That will all be done inside the building or just in front. We will make sure that she is as far away from danger as possible."

Knowing by looking up in Hermione's set and determined face that there was no use in continuing to argue with her, Lucius and George gave in. Lucius rose from his chair and put his arms on her shoulders, pulling her close enough to whisper.

"I do not want you harmed, my darling," he said unable to hide the fear in his eyes. "There is so much that can go wrong even with a planned and well organized raid such as this one."

"Lucius, I will be all right. I'm not asking to be put right in the middle of battle. I just want to be there. Want to see for myself if it succeeds or fails."

"If it starts to go badly, you must promise me to return home immediately." She couldn't argue or even be insulted by the pleading in his usually confident voice.

"I promise."

Either forgetting their audience or perhaps simply not caring there was anyone else in the world, Lucius pulled Hermione closer to him to capture her lips in a passionate, possessive kiss. Remembering they were not alone after a few moments, Hermione tenderly pushed the man off of her. With her cheeks flushing crimson she turned to the other three resistance members still seated at the table.

"Please inform me when the raid will be."

"Of course, 'Mione," George replied, visibly uncomfortable of the very public display of affection between the two only moments before. "One of us will send our patronus to warn you when it will be. Then someone will come by to take you there."

"Thank you, George."

The visitors left soon after that. There was still quite a lot to do to prepare for the movement against the Umbridge Home that would take place in mere days. They couldn't spare enough time for Hermione even to fix them a hot breakfast. Ryan, George and Angelina let themselves out the back kitchen door. Lucius raised the wards and reactivated the intruder alarm once he was sure they had Apparated away from the grounds safely. He closed the back door and turned around the rejoin Hermione at the kitchen table.

His eyes were darkened by rage or lust or fear. Hermione couldn't be certain which. Perhaps all three. For the first time in a long time, she felt herself almost frightened to be alone in Lucius' presence. Something about the way he was looking at her was unnerving. He crossed the room without saying a word to her. When he was close enough to touch her, he picked her up and deposited her back on to the table like she had been before they were interrupted by George's patronus.

"We are going to finish what we started, witch," he said, leering over her. "And then… then we are going to discuss this foolish plan of yours to get yourself killed!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The days following the Resistance's meeting at Malfoy Manor were intolerable. Despite Lucius putting forth his finest efforts to keep Hermione distracted and her mind concentrated on more pleasurable thoughts, she could only focus and worry about the upcoming raid. She had dreams about it. Some were pleasant and triumphant and others were horrifying enough that she woke up screaming with Lucius' strong arms around her.

Only two full days had passed, but to Hermione, it felt as if time slowed down to unbearable speeds. As much as she felt at home in the manor and as much as she cared about Lucius, she was going stir crazy. Her body positively itched to get out and do something worthwhile. She was locked up in an elegant prison at Kingsley's request and Lucius' insistence, but that did not mean she had to stay there forever and be useless. It wasn't exactly like she was locked up in the Umbridge Home like Luna, Susan and several of the other girls from the DA. Likewise she wasn't locked up in Azkaban with Mr. Weasley, Terry Boot or Ernie MacMillan. She had the freedom to walk out the front door any time she wanted. Well, assuming Lucius wasn't there to stop her with a passionate kiss or a well-timed _stupefy_ curse.

A part of her was angry with Lucius for keeping her so well protected. There were entire blissful days in his company where she forgot to be afraid or forgot to be outraged. He could keep her mind so completely occupied that there was nothing else in the world outside of their tiny bubble of existence. The matter had only gotten worse when their relationship changed and it ceased to be only her mind that Lucius kept busy with his practiced and delicious attentions. She was grateful she hadn't known such sensations existed when she was in school or she was certain she would've failed all of her O.W.L.s.

George frustrated her to no end as well. Two visits to the manor in four months and the second only because Draco made him. Did he not understand how positively infuriating it was to be left behind with no news? She knew George and Angelina were out there in the thick of it. Yes, their lives and their freedom were constantly in danger, but at least they were doing _something_! All she had learned to do was expand her repertoire of edible dishes and how to properly launder Lucius' expensive robes so the fine fabrics weren't damaged. And then George had the nerve to send her an owl warning her once again to be careful around Lucius! He wasted no time after their meeting in the kitchen to pen a note to her reminding her that romantic relationships developed under stressful conditions and isolation were not usually successful. The nerve of that man! His owl arrived only fifteen minutes after the three of them Apparated away from the grounds. He would be getting an earful from her the next time they were alone. How dare he?

Try as she might, Hermione could not stop herself from being angry with Neville as well. He was out there fighting against injustice and battling for a world in which his unborn baby could be safe in. She respected that her pudgy cheeked friend from childhood had grown into a brave and formidable man. He was the face of the Resistance, but couldn't be bothered to send even a short message to the woman who helped him pass all of his classes in school and who had formed the very rebellious school club that helped him form the basis of his defense training. No, Neville was too busy traipsing around the countryside with Hannah rallying support for their cause to take just a few minutes out of his schedule to tell her what was going on.

And Kingsley! Oh, how she would love to have _that_ man standing in front of her! Four months and nothing. Not even a hint or a whisper of his whereabouts. He told her, promised her even, that her sojourn at Malfoy Manor would only be temporary. Four months was beginning to feel a lot like permanent. Yes, her feelings for Lucius had obviously changed while she was staying there, but it was the damned principle of the thing. Kingsley promised her that after she rested up she could leave and help join the fight. Where was the wizard now? Too damn busy to remember his promises!

It seemed to Hermione that there was a conspiracy amongst all of the men who loved her to keep her bound and stuck in the safety of the Malfoy ancestral home. None of them seemed in any hurry to allow her to leave her gilded cage. She had just as much right to place her life on the line as they did. Her planned involvement in the Umbridge Home raid was only going to happen because she forced George and Lucius to recognize her as an independent witch. How she wanted to hex them both when they decided for her that it would be too dangerous! She understood the consequences of what would happen to her if she was captured just as well as any of them. How many nights had she woken up in a cold sweat because of a nightmare about Antonin Dolohov? How many times had she almost been physically ill in his presence because of the fear that he would find out who she really was? Hermione understood perfectly well that she was Dolohov's war prize. While she couldn't make herself dwell on what that could possibly mean for her, she knew enough to know that she had the right to be back on the frontlines fighting for the world she believed in.

To say that Hermione was frustrated and angry would be a serious understatement. When she woke up the morning of June 3rd, her nerves were vibrating with rage. The night before, just as she was settling into bed for a long night's sleep, Lucius brought up the subject of her staying home during the raid. It had been the largest and loudest fight since the beginning of her captivity months earlier. Lucius stormed out of the bedroom to retreat in his study with a stiff drink or several. Hermione left his bed for her own for the first time since Rabastan Lestrange's party.

She stuck her head under the hot spray of the shower head to rinse the shampoo out of her hair and to attempt to rinse some of the anger out of her head. With her eyes closed she stood under the fall of water for several minutes after the last bubble of shampoo lather ran down the drain. The sound of the water in her ears muffled all noise except the clanging within her own brain. She felt, rather than heard, Lucius come up behind her. He placed his large hands on her hips then leaned down to kiss her bare shoulders. Hermione suppressed the urge to shiver and moan in delight at the sensations he was eliciting with his mouth and tongue. She was still very angry with him. Very frustrated with his chauvinistic attitude of keeping his woman safe by keeping her at home.

"I'm still angry with you," she announced.

"I am aware," he replied, pausing for just a moment between kisses.

"You aren't going to change my mind."

Lucius forced Hermione to turn around to face him. He captured her mouth in a dominant, crushing kiss.

"I am aware."

He didn't say another word. Didn't try to convince her to stay at the manor. Never once apologized or begged her to forgive him. Simply taught her the valuable lesson that sometimes the greatest passion comes from fury and sheer aggravation. As they both lay on the shower floor some time later with the hot water still raining down on their bodies as they tried to catch their breaths, Hermione almost forgot to be angry with him. Almost.

"If I thought I could get away with it… if I thought you would forgive me when it was all over," Lucius said breaking the post-coital silence after several minutes. "I would lock you down in the basement until this was all over. Until Antonin was dead and the Dark Lord too. If I thought you would even let me, I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, Hermione."

She slowly rose from the floor of the shower to turn off the taps. There was a desperation in his voice that she could not bear to hear. Lucius let her walk away from the bathroom without following. Hermione needed to get away from him before she allowed him to trap her back inside the fairy tale they had been living. What they had been living was not reality. She was not some damsel in distress requiring the handsome knight in shining armor to protect her from the evil troll. She had to remember the truth. Remember that people she loved and cared about were dying and being tortured because a malevolent, insane half-Muggle wizard believed he had the right to build a quasi-religious empire where blood purity and cruelty were the basic tenets.

Hermione dressed in the room that had been her bedroom before she started sharing Lucius' bed every night. Even though it was only a month or so ago, the life that she lived inside this bedroom seemed to be part of another lifetime. Lucius made her forget what life was like without him. If she were truthful with herself, she was thankful for that gift. She never wanted to imagine a life without that beautiful wizard again. Hermione stood in front of the windows overlooking the front gardens and could not believe how much her life had changed in such a short period of time.

Lucius came up behind her once more. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her backwards into his chest. Hermione closed her eyes and exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her anger began to melt away with the simple act of her body pressed up against his. There would be more arguments in the future, she was positive, but this one was over. He did not have to speak a word and she knew that he was backing off. Consenting to her need to be a part of something bigger than the two of them.

"I will be careful," she promised.

He did not respond. Simply increased the pressure on her waist slightly and kissed the top of her head.

"The moment I am overwhelmed or think that something is not going right, I will come home."

"I will be waiting for you. I will always be waiting for you."

Hermione spun around to meet his eyes and lost herself in his embrace. They stood in the window full of the early morning sun for a long time before a rustling on the grounds below disrupted them. Lucius pointed out a shimmery figure crossing the grass. When the smoky coyote reached the manor it rose in the air to fly through the closed window.

 _"'Mione. Sunset. Be ready."_

* * *

Hermione must have changed her clothes a dozen times before Lucius finally dragged her out the bedroom. She couldn't decide what one would wear to a highly illegal, most definitely dangerous, massive prison break. That was never an outfit that Lavender Brown taught her to put together. She assumed that she would need to wear all dark clothes because it would be nighttime and she would need to be stealthy. But then she thought if her clothes were too dark then she could be overlooked and possibly hit by friendly fire. She finally decided that she would need to wear dark Muggle-style jeans, a dark navy blue long-sleeve shirt and comfortable shoes she could run and potentially kick a little arse in. Her hair was pulled back firmly in a tight braid. She learned early on that loose hair could be a major detriment in a wizard duel.

Lucius made sure that she had at least the opportunity to eat dinner. Her nerves, of course wouldn't allow her to consume more than a few bites. She couldn't tell if she was nervous or excited or terrified. Most likely it was a combination of all three emotions. Sunset seemed like it would never come. From the sofa in the study after dinner, she watched the sunlight slowly diminish through the windows. Lucius sat next to her with his arm around her shoulder and his heart in his throat. He said very little to her as the evening wore on. Hermione could sense the tension in his entire body. It didn't take a genius to see how worried he was about her. Part of her almost let him silently talk her out of going to the raid.

"What will you do when I am gone?" she asked when the silence was unbearable.

"I would be at your side if I could."

He took a sip from his glass. Wine was not enough for him that evening. Despite his assurances weeks earlier that he would likely never touch another drop of fire whiskey, Lucius was already on his second glass and it wasn't quite nine o'clock yet. Hermione knew that if she were to come back too late he would be very intoxicated. They sat in silence once more, neither knowing what they could possibly say that hadn't already been said a hundred times the night before. Hermione was determined that she would not start another argument with him. An angry, hostile Lucius was not something she ever wanted to see. An angry, hostile, terrified Lucius was even worse.

The sun was due to set at approximately 9:28 pm according to Lucius' mantle clock. The minutes ticked by slowly. Agonizingly slow. Hermione could feel her heart beating faster and faster the closer she got to the time when she knew a Resistance member would be arriving. When there were five minutes left before sunrise she jumped from the sofa and began pacing the study. Sophie and Cassius were annoyed with her disturbance of their evening naps, but did nothing more than just glare at her before laying their heads back down on the floor.

"You don't think it has been cancelled, do you?" Hermione asked when the clock signaled it was now 9:30 and there had been no arrival.

"I am certain that Mr. Weasley would inform you the moment they decided not to go through with their plans, if that is the case," Lucius assured her. He emptied the glass of whiskey into his mouth and started to pour another.

By 9:45 pm, Hermione was practically frantic. The sun was well and gone by then. Maybe there was a problem? Maybe the plan failed before it even had a chance to begin? Hermione imagined every worst case scenario possible in that quarter of an hour. Lucius merely watched her pace like a caged animal and sipped his whiskey. He was mutely praying that whatever folly the resistance had planned that evening was not going to happen. The last thing he wanted was to watch his Hermione leave the safety of his estate without him. She hadn't been by herself outside of his sanctuary since that freezing night when she was almost captured by Runcorn and Dolohov. He desperately hoped she would be able to take a little bit better care of herself this evening than she had that evening.

 _"Hermione, meet me at the gates."_

The appearance of a small patronus in the shape of a squirrel appeared suddenly to the surprise of both Lucius and Hermione. Lucius could not stop the smirk that formed on his face. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the squirrel in wonder. She wasn't sure who it could belong to. The voice wasn't familiar. Lucius rose from the sofa and took her by the arm.

"Allow me to escort you, my darling."

It felt strange to Hermione to be outside without any form of disguise. She walked a step or two behind Lucius just in case there was someone undesirable waiting for her at the gates. At the end of the long driveway, Hermione released a sigh of relief when she saw Ryan Sloane waiting for her. It had been his idea after all. No wonder George made sure she was Ryan's responsibility. No doubt he feared both Lucius' wrath and the wrath of the remaining members of his family if it were found that he was accountable in any way for something dire happening to Hermione.

"Good evening, Mr. Sloane," Lucius greeted, the damnable smirk still on his lips. "Adorable patronus. We were not sure who it belonged to."

Ryan smiled at Hermione before narrowing his eyes at Lucius' remark. Hermione thought it ridiculous to tease someone for the shape of their patronus. It was something akin to the color of their skin or the texture of their hair. They had no choice in the matter.

"I've always loved squirrels, Lucius," Ryan replied, daring the older wizard to say another word about his patronus with his eyes.

"Hello, Ryan." Hermione welcomed the young wizard with a quick hug. "I was getting worried."

Lucius did not even try to hide his displeasure at Ryan's familiar embrace of Hermione. He glared with an expression that had been known to drive older and more powerful wizards than Ryan Sloane crazy with fear. Ryan was only mildly annoyed.

"Sorry, Hermione. A few last minute details had to be taken care of first," he answered. "Speaking of, we should really get going. I don't like us being out in the open like this."

Hermione threw her arms around Lucius' neck and kissed him soundly. Lucius returned the embrace with an extra amount of fervor for the benefit of the other wizard. He wanted it to be very clear to Ryan that Hermione was _his_. After a few moments, Ryan respectfully cleared his throat. Hermione placed one more quick kiss on Lucius' lips before ending the embrace.

"Return to me, Hermione," Lucius whispered before releasing her.

"I promise."

Ryan gripped Hermione's right arm firmly in his left. With a curt nod to Lucius, he Apparated them both to the edge of what looked like an industrial business complex. Hermione was surprised by the locale. She wasn't sure exactly what she expected, but this certainly wasn't it. A relatively modest three story building loomed up ahead. There was a car park in front of the building that was completely devoid of any form of motor vehicle. She assumed that the park was simply a way to make the building blend into what must be a thoroughly Muggle area.

"This is the back of the building," Ryan explained, still keeping hold of her arm. "The entrance is on the other side. There is a single back exit, but you are not to get any closer to the building than where you are right now."

"What do I need to do?" She was extremely nervous.

"Disillusion yourself and keep an eye out. There are other witches all around the building, but most of them are already disillusioned. If you see anything out of the ordinary, anything that seems suspicious, send your patronus to me. I will be at the back exit and can get messages to everyone inside."

Hermione took a good look at the area around the building. She would've preferred it if they were in the Forbidden Forest. At least there she knew what to expect. This was concrete and steel. The nearest building was several hundred meters away from her, but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that once the action started there wouldn't be a good place to hide.

"I'm going to head on to my spot," Ryan continued. "Remember. You just need to keep an eye out. If anyone or anything approaches you, leave immediately. The last thing any of us wants is for you to be captured."

There it was again. One more man in her life that didn't want her involved in anything dangerous. One more man in her life that was making decisions for her. She was getting very tired of the males of her species somehow making the blanket decision that she would never be able to take care of herself without their help. If they weren't so damn adorable, she would almost be willing to chuck them all out of her life.

Ryan disillusioned himself with a simple spell and disappeared. Following his lead, Hermione tapped the top of her head. The sudden chill of the spell always took her by surprise even when she was expecting it. As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, Hermione got a better sense of what was going on around her. All of the street lamps and car park lights were out. She was reminded strongly of Ron's Deluminator and had to choke down a sudden influx of emotion.

She could see a perimeter around the building made up of shadowy figures that she could only make out when they moved slightly. The night air was eerily quiet. Somehow she was expecting this to be more like the night of the Battle for Hogwarts. That night had been full of screams, spells and noises she heard over and over again in her nightmares. The complete lack of any noise at all was disconcerting. Hermione kept an eye out for any seemingly unusual activity around her. From her vantage point nothing appeared to be happening.

Hermione held her wand in front of her prepared to do whatever might be required of her. She couldn't help glancing up at the building ahead of her that held so many of her loved ones. What was it like inside? Lucius had given her a description of what he found inside, but he couldn't exactly explain what it must be like to be a prisoner. She was worried about Luna. Lucius said that she would be ready to have her baby any day now. Draco promised his father that he would try to get a message to him when he learned that Luna had her baby. Lucius had heard nothing so far. Either she was still pregnant or Draco had been unable to get away. Hermione prayed that she hadn't had her baby yet. If she was still pregnant and this evening was a success, Luna would be able to keep hers and Draco's baby. She was certain that given the choice Luna would wish to do so.

About ten or twenty minutes after she arrived, Hermione saw a small group of men and women surround the outside of the building. She assumed they were the curse breakers because they all began to raise and wave their wands in unison. Almost immediately the building began to shimmer and crackle. It would've been beautiful if it wasn't also terrifying. There was no way to keep the ward breaking a secret. If the wrong person was looking at the building just then it could all be a failure. The curse breakers began another series of some of the most intricate wand waving that Hermione had ever seen. Even from the distance she was at she could see that they were completing actions she did not even know were possible. The building shimmered once more and began to glow. Hermione tried to keep her eyes focused on the area directly behind her and around her, but the actions of Bill's team were too fascinating to not watch. After about ten minutes, the entire building glowed bright orange and the wards around it began to crack. Another few minutes and the building was completely insecure.

The real action began the moment the wards and other protections were breached. Dozens of wizards immediately Apparated to the building. They must have been somewhere nearby where they could see the wards crack. As soon as the wizards began blasting through the entrances and entering the building, the team of curse breakers turned around to encompass the entire area with protection spells. Hermione was just a little too far out to be included in the protective bubble. She assumed the team was creating anti-Apparition wards. That would prevent her from being able to escape at the last second and that was the first and only promise George made Lucius. He promised that Hermione would be able to escape if necessary. No doubt the very spot that Ryan brought Hermione to had been previously decided upon by George. He wanted her as far from the action as physically possible.

While it was encouraging to see that the Resistance was very well prepared for this raid, Hermione couldn't deny the fear that suddenly struck her in the stomach. If something were to go wrong she wasn't sure she would be able to leave in time. She wanted to know what was happening and couldn't be sure she would have the strength to leave without knowing how everyone fared first. Running away from the Battle for Hogwarts and not knowing the after effects of it for nine months, wasn't something she was prepared to experience again.

Shouts and shrieks echoed through the night air. It was hard to see in the darkness, but Hermione could see that people were being removed from the building. So far it seemed that everything was going according to plan. Small clusters of people began disappearing from the protective area. She could only assume the portkeys that Percy had organized were being put to good use. Curses and hexes were being thrown around the area. There were still people inside the building putting up a fight.

Hermione turned her back from the chaos. She was supposed to be making sure that no one was able to sneak up from behind. It gave her an excuse to not watch the action. As much as she claimed she wanted to be involved, she was starting to regret her decision. She was so nervous about what was happening that she could hardly breathe. Remembering Lucius' request of her, she seriously considered Apparating back to the manor. It was only the realization that she would be unable to forgive herself for her cowardice that kept her from leaving.

More and more people were pouring out of the building. Groups continued to disappear. Hermione couldn't be sure how much time had passed since the assault on the building began, but based on the position the moon was in up in the sky, it couldn't have been very long at all. Time seemed to creep by slowly. Her heart was beating so quickly she feared she was about to have a panic attack. If this is how she felt so far away from the main part of the action, what was it like down there? Memories of the final battle swirled around in her mind. Adrenaline was the only thing that kept her moving that day. Even being in the thick of the fighting she hadn't had the opportunity to be scared. Her mind and her wand arm had been too preoccupied. Part of her knew that if she had something to focus on she would be able to calm down.

Her pulse was racing and her head began to spin. She couldn't believe that she was about to admit to herself that Lucius was correct. While she wanted to be involved in the fight, this standing around and waiting for something to happen was maddening. The small dinner Lucius forced her to eat earlier in the evening made its way up before she knew what was happening. As she was bent over expelling the contents of her stomach, she began to hear the distinctive pops of Apparition around her.

There was nowhere for her to hide. At least in a forest she could've hidden behind a tree or been able to climb up one. In this industrial park there was nothing. Hermione looked around her. Figures wrapped in dark cloaks and masks were Apparating around the entire perimeter of the warded protection bubble. She was still a little too far away from the bulk of the action for anyone to notice her yet, but she knew it would only be a matter of time. Already there were new arrivals in the long dark robes trying to break through the protective enchantments. They were struggling to overcome the spells, but Hermione could see that there were breaks starting to form.

She turned around to see what was behind her. All of the attention was focused solely on the action near the Umbridge Home. There was no one behind her. Even with a disillusionment spell on her she knew that if she moved too quickly in an attempt to Apparate, she would be spotted. Her only option was to walk slowly and carefully away from the scene, hoping and praying that no one spotted her shimmering in the moonlight.

"Get those wards down now!" Someone shouted only a few meters from Hermione. She could practically smell his breath. The voice sounded vaguely familiar but she had no desire to get close enough to figure out who it was.

Hermione could tell by looking towards the back of the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies that the trickle of people who had been filing out of the building for the past half an hour or so had slowed down considerably. Groups around the area were still disappearing as the portkeys were activated. From her perspective it seemed that most of the unfortunate inhabitants of the prison had been released. Only a handful or so of figures were still coming out of the building. She knew that the bulk of the action was complete and no one would fault her for getting out now.

She surveyed the area directly behind her away from the building. There did not appear to be anyone in the background. All attention was on the building. Keeping her eyes focused firmly on what was happening ahead of her, Hermione began to slowly walk away from the area backwards. She was anxious to send her patronus to George and the others, but knew that any spell at this point would give away her location. When she backed up about twenty or thirty meters, she saw a large industrial size rubbish bin. Sensing that no one was looking in her direction, Hermione rushed to hide behind the large bin. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she pointed her wand towards the direction of the action and peeked around the corner.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

The silver otter that she first discovered in the Room of Requirement during a DA meeting shot out of the end of her wand. It floated in the air over to her. She whispered her message to George and sent it shooting off towards the ensuing chaos. Her patronus flying over the heads of the robed figures created a stir, but no one could tell where it came from. She hid back behind the bin, closed her eyes and exhaled her relief.

" _Hem, hem_."

Hermione opened her eyes little by little at the disturbance. The moonlight shone just bright enough for there to be no question who was standing above her. Even her damned bow was lit up by the moonlight. An eight inch birch wand was pointed in Hermione's face. She had no idea where Dolores Jane Umbridge came from. Must have appeared when she was distracted sending her patronus.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

She should have been expecting the basic disarming spell she learned during her second year at Hogwarts. It was a Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two spell. As her brand new cherry wand with the dragon heartstring core flew out of her hand into the waiting paw of the most hated former Hogwarts Headmistress, Hermione felt more distraught than she had since the day she was tortured under Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. She was completely unarmed and at the mercy of the woman she hated most in the world.

"My, my. I never expected when I heard there was an attack on my greatest achievement that I would find myself face to face with the infamous Hermione Granger." Umbridge's voice had not changed since the day Hermione led her out to the Forbidden Forest. Based on the glint in her eye, it appeared that Umbridge had certainly not forgotten who was responsible for her meeting with the herd of centaurs. "Won't the Ministry be excited to hear that we finally have you within our grasp?"

"Your greatest achievement, huh? What a sad life you've led." Hermione wasn't going to keep her mouth shut just because Dolores Umbridge had a wand in her face. She was disgusting and Hermione was going to tell her.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of. Because of me, traitors have been able to provide children to worthy magical families."

"You are repulsive, Dolores. Someday soon you are going to get what is coming to you."

Umbridge brought her toad face closer to leer down at Hermione with a scowl. The hate in the witch's eyes was overwhelming. Hermione knew that she was in deep trouble. The birch wand was almost poking into her eyes. She had a desperate plan formulating in her mind. If it did not go off as she hoped it would, Hermione would be dead by Umbridge's wand or carted off to be turned over to Lord Voldemort and then to Antonin Dolohov. She had zero room for error.

"I've been hoping to come across you again since that day at Hogwarts," Umbridge whispered. "I am going to make it so you wish you had never stepped foot in our world, you filthy Mudblood."

Hermione grabbed for Umbridge's wand. Dolores struggled, but she was able to pull it out of her porky, ring-covered fingers in two very distinct pieces. Umbridge shrieked when she realized her wand was broken. Hermione used that brief moment of despair to bring her right foot firmly into Dolores' stomach. The squatty witch screamed and keeled over, clutching her midsection. In the darkness Hermione couldn't tell where her wand ended up. It didn't matter. She had another wand. Even though she promised Lucius she would never use it again, this was an emergency. She would worry about the consequences once she was out of this situation.

She reached down into the bag still stuffed inside of her bra. It only took a moment for her hand to clutch her old, familiar wand made of vine wood. With a swift motion, she pulled it out of the bag and pointed it at the flailing and screeching witch. For the first time in her almost twenty years, Hermione was tempted to use the Killing Curse on a human being. Her hate for this woman was strong enough that she had no doubt that she would be able to complete the spell. She would use it too if she thought the old bag might actually feel some pain.

" _Sectumsempra!_ "

Great gashes appeared all over Umbridge's body. The witch screamed in pain. Hermione repeated the brutal spell created by the Half Blood Prince at least three more times. The asphalt that Umbridge was laying on began to turn dark red as her blood pooled around her body. Her screaming ceased. Soon even her whimpering ended. Her skin was deathly pale. It didn't take a certified mediwizard to know that Hermione had just committed murder.

A pop of Apparition startled her back to reality. Immediately two wands were shoved into her face. She was really getting tired of being at the pointy end of so many wands that evening. One of the wizards was a complete stranger to her, but the other was Albert Runcorn. After an initial inspection of the area, Runcorn's astonished eyes met Hermione's. No doubt he was taken aback by the now cooling body of his former boss.

"Find Dolohov immediately!" Runcorn shouted his order at the unknown wizard. Hermione felt her stomach begin to churn. She knew there was no way she was going to get out of this mess without a miracle.

In mere moments a large, masked figure in the dark familiar Death Eater robes that Hermione had grown to fear came into view. The figure flicked his wand and both Hermione's old wand and her new flew into his open hands. A firm hand covered in a leather glove grabbed Hermione's arm so tightly it hurt. She let out a squeak of protest at the sensation.

"We've been searching for you for a long time, Miss Granger," Albert Runcorn said with a smile. "Thank you for using your wand and leading us directly to you."

The Death Eater pulled her roughly into his chest. With his arms tightened around Hermione, he turned with determination and deliberation to take her with him to destination unknown.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Death Eater managed to cover her eyes with a blindfold at some point during the Apparition process. When the spinning and squeezing finally stopped, Hermione had no clue where she was located. It had to have been far away from the skirmish at the Umbridge Home because the cool night air was completely silent. She assumed they were somewhere alone because even a person trying to be quiet always makes at least a little noise.

Hermione was released from the crush to the man's chest, but his hand held her upper arm in such a tight grip that she knew there would be bruises. He didn't say a single word to her when they reached their destination. Simply pulled roughly on her arm to make her feet move in the dark. Hermione had too much pride to beg and plead with the wizard. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak that she would begin to weep and never be able to stop. She refused to show emotion of any kind to this man.

She couldn't be sure how far he dragged her before he pulled her up a series of steps. With the loud clanking of a door opening, Hermione's captor released his grasp of her arm to push her through the open doorway. Hermione crashed to the floor hitting her elbow sharply on the hard flooring. She forced herself to swallow the gasp and the sob that threatened to escape from her at the contact. She didn't want him to see how frightened she was. That would be giving him even more power than he already had.

He plucked the witch off the floor without a word. She had never known Antonin Dolohov to be much of a talker, but this was unusual. Did he believe her to be such a subhuman being that she didn't deserve the most basic of human communication? His seemingly enormous hands held her upper arms in another excruciatingly tight grip. She already knew there would be bruises there and attempted to banish the plaguing thoughts that soon she would have even more to add to her new collection. Several minutes passed as the taciturn wizard pushed her further and further into the recesses of whatever building they were now in. He abruptly stopped at one point causing Hermione to fall painfully into a wall or a door. He pushed her away using his wand to wordlessly tie her wrists together.

The Death Eater opened a door. Hermione could tell by the loud squeak that it emitted no doubt due to disuse. He pulled once more on Hermione's arms. With his hand firmly on her arm, he guided her down a flight of stairs. The cold, biting air of what she assumed must be some kind of basement or cellar hit her unexpectedly. When their feet landed on solid ground he yanked her closer to him, almost dragging her. After a few feet he pushed her to the ground and a heavy door slammed shut.

She couldn't tell if she was alone. He hadn't said a single word and the blindfold was still wrapped tightly around her eyes. Several minutes passed of her simply sitting on the cold, hard floor. She didn't know where she was or who or what might be in the room with her. It would be safe to say that she had never been more terrified at any single moment in her entire life. Knowing that he could be watching her, Hermione used all of her inner strength and self-control to not break down. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

Time had no meaning in a situation like Hermione found herself in. She couldn't be sure how much time had passed since she murdered Dolores Umbridge. She did allow a small smirk at the memory of that woman's death. Maybe one day she would feel remorse for taking another person's life with such cold deliberation, but that day was not the one she was living in. The thought of Umbridge lying dead on the asphalt of a Muggle car park made Hermione delightfully happy. A true smile crossed her face at the realization that no one would ever be harmed by that ugly, toad-faced witch again.

The violent strike of a backhanded slap quite literally knocked the grin from Hermione's face. So her question of whether or not she was alone was finally answered. Her cheek burned where contact had been made, but she stubbornly refused to cry out. Internally she dared him to hurt her again. She was resolute that no cry, scream or word would come out of her mouth. Her Gryffindor pride reared up and gave her courage.

Before the sting of the slap was gone, her captor followed it with another even harder smack. Hermione could feel tears begin to form in her eyes, but she promised herself she would not shed them. Unforgiving hands pulled her up from her seated position on the floor. Her bound wrists were quickly unbound. She was roughly pushed into a wall backwards, the impact causing the wind to be knocked out of her. As she struggled to catch her breath, her battered arms were thrown above her head with a silent spell. Cold manacles closed over each wrist suspending her frozen in place.

All internal promises and assurances that she would remain calm and unmoved in the face or whatever the damned Death Eater had in mind for her were forgotten the moment she realized she could not move. She was more afraid in that moment than she had been when Fenrir Greyback hovered over her waiting for his opportunity to rip her to shreds. A quietly muttered spell hit her chest and she instantly felt the sting of humiliation with the suddenly cold air on her bare torso. Another spell was muttered and her lower body was as bare as her upper. Hermione began to struggle against the chains. She couldn't be sure how close he was to her, but began kicking out at the open air to at least give herself the illusion of fighting back. A non-verbal spell glued her now bare feet to the freezing stone. She was completely exposed and at his mercy.

Warm, bare hands began to trace her exposed body. Every naked inch of her trembling body was touched. She tried to remain as calm as possible, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she lost complete control over her emotions. The dam broke when the wizard's hands grabbed and squeezed her breasts with such a ferocity that she briefly wondered if it were possible to rip them off her chest with just hands. She began to scream and sob. She hated herself for being so foolish to get herself trapped in the situation she was in. She was maybe mere minutes away from being tortured, raped, possibly murdered. She wasn't so brave anymore.

The hands removed themselves from her body when she started screaming. Hermione was momentarily thankful. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that her shrieks were enough to repel the man from her permanently, but any respite from the groping was entirely welcome. She calmed down for just a bit when she felt the imposing man walk away from her. The sound of a door opening and slamming behind her was a little encouraging if Hermione didn't think about the possibility that that could mean a second or even a third person had just entered the room. In an effort to banish any more disturbing thoughts like those, Hermione physically shook her head.

Without a hint of a warning, her feet became unstuck from the floor and her arms were released from their chains. She fell in a heap on the floor at the release. Before she even made a movement to pull herself off of the stone, she reached up to rip the blindfold off her eyes. It took her a little while to let her eyes adjust to the complete darkness of the room. She could tell immediately after her eyes adjusted that she was alone.

The room was about as unremarkable as possible. There was no furniture to speak of or really anything else for that matter. She was certain that this room wouldn't be in use for very long. There was no possible way that a human being could exist in such a place for long. She tried not to imagine the potential horrors that would be waiting for her outside of the tiny cell. In a corner she found her clothes neatly folded as if just waiting for her to find them. She wasted no time in getting dressed. The room was entirely too cold to stay exposed for too long.

Hermione sat down in the corner of the room furthest from the door. At least if she kept her eyes on the door she would not be caught off guard by her captor. Being alone and finally starting to warm up gave Hermione ample time to think about the predicament she was in. _How could you have been so foolish, Hermione?! Why did you have to let your pride and indignation get in the way of making smart choices?_

She missed Lucius desperately and she had only been gone a matter of hours. Was he aware yet that something had gone wrong? Or was he still pacing his study drinking too much whiskey and anxiously awaiting her return? She knew that she should have Apparated back to the manor the moment she knew the Death Eaters were arriving. She'd broken her promise to Lucius and the thought made her sick. It had only been twenty-four hours earlier that they'd had the worst argument of their entire relationship. Her pride at being Dolores Umbridge's downfall and her desire to be wrapped in Lucius' arms instead did battle within her.

She was certain she would never regret what she did to Umbridge, but she also wished she'd listened to Lucius and stayed home. It's not like she was exactly a big help to the resistance during the raid she realized. It was almost over before the Death Eaters arrived. Umbridge had simply been an unexpected bonus. No one knew she would be there. In the grand scheme of things, Hermione Granger had done nothing that evening to further their cause.

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, laid her head on her knees and cried, sobbed really. At that moment she didn't really care if Antonin Dolohov and a hundred other damned Death Eaters were standing outside the door listening to her. _When did I become so bloody foolish?_ She berated herself internally, called herself every derogatory name she could think of. She knew that she would _almost_ be willing to allow Lucius to lock her up in his basement for the duration with promises of keeping her safe.

She had no idea what time it was when the door opened again, jarring her awake. It could've been hours. She didn't think it had been days, but she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep and her body wasn't hungry. Of course that wasn't exactly a sign to trust. She had been too frightened to think of anything as simple as food and water. The wizard entered the room still dressed in his Death Eater robes and mask. It unnerved Hermione to be unable to see his face. With a wave of his wand the light came back on in the room. Hermione expected to be chained up again, but after several agonizing moments of fear, she was left alone.

"What do you want from me?" She finally demanded, too frustrated to keep silent any longer.

He was across the room before Hermione had a chance to move. The Death Eater gripped her upper arms and pulled her entire body close to his. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, the wizard finally spoke.

"I was wanting to know if you have, perhaps, finally learned your lesson."

The familiarity of the voice was unexpected. Hermione stared up in the masked face almost in a daze. It only took a few moments for complete realization to dawn on her.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed.

He waved his wand and the Death Eater accoutrements vanished. Lucius Malfoy was angrier than Hermione had ever seen him before. The shock of seeing his beloved face rendered her speechless following her insult.

"How was your evening, _pet_?" he asked, not even trying to keep the malice out of his tone. "Did you sleep well down here in the basement, _darling_?"

"Why… why would…" She wasn't even certain what questions she wanted to ask.

Lucius released his hold on her arms.

"Did you honestly believe that I would just allow you to go to the raid and not follow you?" His tone was softer, but he was still quite angry.

" _'Allow'_ me? How dare you!"

Lucius ignored her response.

"I was there watching you the entire time," he explained. "I knew you would do something foolhardy and utterly Gryffindor and get yourself into trouble. I knew you were not going to Apparate home when you needed to."

"How dare you!"

"I was moments away from _stupefying_ you myself and taking you home. And then you got yourself entangled with that woman. I was trying to get closer to you when you used your old wand."

"I didn't know what else to do," she answered feeling her cheeks burning and her eyes fill up with tears. How was it even possible for someone to be so relieved and so upset at the same time?

Lucius stepped back from the upset witch still fuming. His cheeks were almost as bright red as Hermione's were. Usually he was able to keep his emotions under enough control to keep a blank, impenetrable mask on his countenance. Obviously he was more upset than Hermione had ever seen him before. She could understand how Rabastan Lestrange felt lying in his garden with a murderous Lucius standing above him. It was not an experience she ever wanted to repeat.

"I gave you that wand for purely sentimental reasons. You gave me your word that you would never use it." His tone was icy. Hermione shivered.

"I had no choice. She took my other one. I had to do something!"

"You should not have even been in that situation! You should have come straight home."

Hermione could tell that this was an argument that was not going to be over very quickly. It was rapidly becoming just as bad if not possibly worse than the one they had had before. Their passion for each other was not always in the bedroom. Something about the other caused them both to lose control in their presence. Lucius was pacing the cramped room with a murderous glint in his eyes. Hermione could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks and she would have done just about anything to be able to run away from him.

"Do you understand how close you were to being caught, Hermione?" he demanded. His cheeks had lost none of their color. "Runcorn was in your face! He was _right_ _there_! If Dolohov had been any closer to you, I would not have been able to save you."

"Yes and you saved me only to slap me and push me and grope me and lock me up in your bloody basement!" She could feel some of her ire from hours earlier creeping back into her system.

Lucius ceased his pacing. He crossed the room to her and pulled her arm back into a tight grip. With his face only inches from her, he continued.

"Yes, I did all of that and you are still alive. Do not forget that."

She couldn't respond to him. He was absolutely correct and the knowledge of that made her skin crawl. How could she have been so foolish? She must have asked herself that question a thousand times since she found herself at the other end of Dolores Umbridge's wand for yet another moment in her short life.

"You are exceedingly fortunate that Antonin was too busy trying to bring down the wards around the area that Bill Weasley and his group put up. Another minute more and it would have been his arms you found yourself in, my dear."

Hermione felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Her memories of that night became clearer. The closest Death Eater to her, the one who had been screaming to bring down the wards had had a familiar voice. She did not want to think it at the time, but now she knew she had been only a few short meters away from the man who longed to possess her. If Lucius had not been there waiting in the shadows for her to screw up… If Dolohov had been just a few meters over from where he Apparated in at… If Umbridge had been able to stun her… If Runcorn had not let the first wizard dressed in Death Eater robes take her…

"I cannot bear to imagine what would happen to you, Hermione, if you ever found yourself captured by Dolohov."

His voice almost cracked with emotion. The color ran out of his cheeks and his grip on her arm softened. Hermione fought the sudden urge to embrace him. There was more that they needed to discuss before she could even pretend they were back to normal. Part of her wondered if they would ever be normal again.

"So you just show up with your old Death Eater robes and mask to save me?" She spat the words out.

"Yes, I did. You should be thankful that I had the forethought to make sure that I brought them with me. Runcorn just assumed that I was Antonin. Otherwise you and I would both be in a great deal of trouble right now."

"All right. I can concede that point to you," she replied. "But why the act when we got back to the manor? Why not reveal yourself when we arrived? Why would you do what you did to me?!"

"You needed to understand the consequences of your foolish actions! If I had just brought you home and revealed that I had saved you immediately, you would have been relieved to be back safe, but you would not have learned a valuable lesson. You would not understand what could have happened to you if I was not there to save you. You would just rush off into the next half-planned situation with your pride and your ridiculous notions that you are invincible!"

"I just bet you got some sort of sick pleasure out of frightening me and hurting me last night!"

Lucius gripped both of her upper arms in a tight grasp just as he had done the night before. With his face only inches from hers, he dropped his voice to a low growl.

"It also did not hurt you to understand that I am not a good man."

She did not know what to say so she kept her mouth shut. He was frightening her again.

"Do you believe that you are the first person, the first defenseless young woman I have brought down into this room? Because I can assure you that is not the case. There was a time in my life, _pet_ , that while my wife and my young son slept upstairs, I was fulfilling all of the worst nightmares of unfortunate souls who happened to get in my way."

"You are not that same man anymore," she whispered with conviction.

"Perhaps not all of the time, but he is still inside of me. He will always be inside of me."

Lucius released her arms from his furious grip. Without another word he turned from her and left the room. Hermione followed close behind, but by the time she exited the basement at the top of the stairs, he was nowhere to be found. Understanding that he needed some time to himself after their confrontation, Hermione found her way to the entrance hall and then up to her bedroom on the second floor.

The clock on the desk in her private room showed that it was not even noon yet. She practically dragged herself into the bathroom to shower and change her clothes. The events of the previous evening had not been particularly restful. She lingered in the shower longer than she normally would with the faintest hope that perhaps Lucius would join her again. Neither one of them had had many showers by themselves for weeks. When it was clear that he was not going to visit her any time soon, Hermione removed herself from the bathroom, dressed in his navy blue pajamas and settled into the bed for a few hours rest.

Intruder alarms sounding throughout the manor woke Hermione up from a deep sleep. She jumped from the bed in one solid movement before her brain could figure out what was happening. Her clock showed that she had been asleep for several hours. It was already six o'clock in the evening. Before she could pull the vial of polyjuice potion out of her beaded bag, Lucius threw the door open to her bedroom.

"It is Draco," he announced. "I saw him through the window. It looks like he is alone, but the wards are telling me that there is someone with him."

Hermione rushed to the window to peer down at the front driveway. Lucius was correct. She could only see the top of Draco's platinum blond head and no one else.

"Maybe the wards are faulty?" she suggested, but she did not really believe it. Lucius was a powerful wizard who knew exactly what he was doing when he set the enchantments around his manor.

"Maybe…"

Lucius rushed out of her room to meet Draco downstairs at the front door. Hermione changed her clothes as quickly as possible before hastening after him. By the time she reached the entrance hall, Lucius was standing with two very familiar blondes. Hermione almost sobbed when she saw the heavily pregnant form of Luna Lovegood holding what had to have been Harry's invisibility cloak. She was at her friend's side and in her arms before Lucius and Draco were hardly even aware she was in the room.

"Luna!" She cried. "What are you doing here?"

"Draco did not think it wise for me to follow all of the other girls to Russia," Luna replied once the embrace was ended. She smiled at Hermione for a moment before a grimace came across her face. Her breathing became ragged. Draco put his arms around the younger witch and held her for a moment until the pain seemed to pass. With another smile back on her features, Luna looked back up to meet Lucius' eyes. "It looks like you will get to meet your grandson after all, Mr. Malfoy."

"How long has she been in labor?" Lucius asked, concern written all over his face.

"A few hours now," Draco replied. "I couldn't bring her over immediately. We stayed the night in a Muggle motel outside of London last night. I was one of the first inside the building and she was one of the first out. Poppy warned me before I went last night to be prepared for Luna to go into labor because of the stress."

"I was supposed to have the baby last week," Luna added. "But he wasn't ready to be born. He must have known something was going to happen. Maybe he's a Seer. That would be fascinating."

Draco smiled at the witch and continued his story.

"Around lunch time she started feeling strange. I left her alone while I Apparated back to Hogwarts. I told Poppy that she was in labor. She said that she would get a few potions and other items together before she came over."

"Madam Pomfrey knows that you rescued her from the Umbridge Home?" Hermione asked, surprised that he would share that secret with anyone.

"Yes, she and I have been quite close since the beginning of the school year when I began my apprenticeship," he answered. "She has been worried about Luna and was more than willing to help her when I told her that she was ready to have the baby."

"We should be expecting her to arrive any time?" Lucius asked.

Draco did not look his father in the eyes when he asked his question. Hermione could see that faintest blush creep up on the young wizard's neck.

"Yes, and Minerva," Draco answered quietly.

"Professor McGonagall is coming too, Draco? How many others know where you are at?" Lucius was not angry, but Hermione could see the apprehension on his face.

"She was in Poppy's office when I told her. She is limited in what she can do to help because of the Unbreakable Vow she was forced to take…"

"Wait, Unbreakable Vow? What do you mean?" Hermione had a million questions to ask about her former Head of House. She was exceedingly grateful to find out that the woman was still alive. Her fear was that Minerva McGonagall might be yet another victim to Lord Voldemort's regime.

"In order for the Dark Lord to spare her life and allow her to remain in the castle as a professor, she had to take an Unbreakable Vow that she would not do _anything_ that could aid the resistance to harm the Dark Lord," Draco explained. "She was the one who gave me Potter's cloak for Luna to wear. The centaurs found it after the final battle and she has been holding onto it since then."

Luna began to experience another contraction. She was deceptively calm. More so than Hermione would imagine a woman about to give birth would be. If it wasn't for the grip she had on Draco's hand, her closed eyes and the grimace on her face, Hermione would not have been able to tell that anything was unusual with the witch.

"Perhaps we should make Miss Lovegood more comfortable before we continue this discussion," suggested Lucius.

When the contraction passed, he took Luna's other hand and helped Draco lead her to one of the guest rooms on the ground floor. Hermione followed behind unsure of how she could help, but desperately wanting to do _something_. She was a bit surprised that there was a guest room on the ground floor that had recently been aired out and cleaned up. Perhaps Lucius prepared a few rooms after Draco requested that he be able to hide someone in the manor for a few days. Hermione had not asked many questions about the identity of the person who was going to be hidden. It was not necessary any longer. Of course Draco had been planning to get Luna out of the Umbridge Home and somewhere he knew she would be safe. This had been the plan all along.

"What can I do to help?" Hermione finally asked after the two Malfoy men had Luna seated on the edge of the guest bed comfortably.

"I don't want to be rude, Granger," Draco replied. "But I don't want you to do anything. In fact, I don't want you to be seen by anyone when Poppy and Minerva arrive."

She was more than a little offended by his remark and told him so.

"It's nothing personal. It's just that I've already had to promise Poppy that I will _obliviate_ her when this is all over. She doesn't want the Dark Lord to know that she has been helping. It would be more than I'm afraid she could handle to know that she was also under the same roof as the second most Undesirable in Britain."

"Not to mention she is probably still quite shocked by you murdering Dolores Umbridge," Luna added.

"What? How does she know about that?"

Draco gave her a warm smile. If his facial expressions were anything like his father's, Hermione knew he was very impressed by her actions.

"You made the front page of the Prophet this morning, Granger," Draco answered. "You and Umbridge are all anyone is talking about."

She felt her cheeks flame and her stomach twist in knots. Of course what she did would get out. She could only imagine what the Daily Prophet had to say about the events of the previous night. As she considered the possibilities, the intruder alarms began to go off once more. Lucius took her by the arm, gentler than he had earlier in the day, but she still balked. He practically pushed her inside the study with a promise to keep the door shut.

The concerned and raised voices of Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall rang throughout the entrance hall a few minutes later. Hermione had to resist the urge to keep the door shut. She wanted to see how the two women looked and if Professor McGonagall was still all right despite what had to have been a very trying year to say the least. Determined to keep her promise to Lucius and not put the other two witches' lives in any more danger than they already were, she placed herself on the sofa and tried to focus her mind enough to read a book.

Hours passed with Hermione seated in the study completely alone. Either there were silencing spells placed all over the manor or Luna was the quietest witch to ever give birth because Hermione did not hear a single sound through the closed door. Lucius had not returned to her. She wasn't sure if she was upset by that fact or relieved. He could barely look at her when they were in the entrance hall and then when she followed them to the guest suite. She could only imagine what was going through his mind. He was still upset. That was obvious. She wondered if he would always be upset with her and if she should expect the same cold treatment in perpetuity.

The mantle clock struck one o'clock before the door opened again. Lucius entered the room without a word and hardly a glance in her direction. She refused to say anything. She did not want to be the first person to break the unbearable silence between them. Lucius crossed over to his desk to pour himself a glass of whiskey. When the liquid was safely on its way to his stomach, he turned to face Hermione.

"She is doing all right, according to Poppy," he announced. "The baby is not in the correct position yet, but they are trying to get it there."

"How is Draco?"

"Terrified, as you can imagine. Minerva and Poppy have tried to send him out of the room at least a dozen times, but he will not budge. I was the same way when my children were born."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips at the memories. Almost as soon as it happened, Lucius cleared his features of all traces. He sat next to Hermione in his normal spot on the sofa. The tension from earlier was palpable. Several awkward minutes passed with neither of them saying a word to the other. Hermione did not even know where to begin. Neither did Lucius. They sat in silence until the clock struck half past one. The door to the study suddenly swung open.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's a boy!" exclaimed an excited Minerva McGonagall. Her eyes immediately fell on Hermione. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione rose from the sofa, catching Lucius' eye. Before either of them had an opportunity to explain what she was doing there, Professor McGonagall rushed across the room and threw her arms around Hermione. Startled by the sudden show of affection from a woman she knew to not be so affectionate, Hermione took a few moments before she returned the embrace. The shaking of her former Head of House's body told her that the formidable Transfiguration professor was crying.

"I don't know why you are here, Miss Granger," she finally said with her voice breaking. "But I am so glad to see you are alive. I've been so worried about you."

The two witches stood in the embrace for a few more minutes before the professor finally broke the contact. Both women had tears running down their cheeks. Professor McGonagall brushed her hand across Hermione's cheeks to clear the tears off and smiled the warmest smile Hermione had ever seen on the woman's face.

"Poppy and I will be leaving in just a few moments," she announced. "Draco is _obliviating_ her as we speak. She thought it would be safer. Indeed I should probably have him do the same to me, but I want to remember this evening."

"Thank you for all of your help, Minerva," Lucius said, shaking the older woman's hand.

"Congratulations, Lucius. He is stunning."

Lucius walked the professor out into the entrance hall. His eyes met Hermione's before he closed the door to the room. She could hear the voices in the hall and then the opening and closing of the large front door. Lucius returned to the study. Still he did not say a word to Hermione. Simply took her hand in his and led her to the guest room.

Draco was lying next to Luna in the bed on his side. The smile on his face as he gazed at the brand new baby in Luna's arms could have lit up the entire room. Lucius hesitantly led Hermione over to the side of the bed closest to Luna.

"How are you, Luna?" Hermione asked. The younger witch's exhaustion was evident on her features, but her smile was almost as bright as Draco's. It was obvious that this child's new parents were deeply in love with him already.

"I'm wonderful, Hermione," she replied. "Would you like to hold him, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius almost seemed shocked by the question. Hermione squeezed his hand before she dropped it. He removed the tiny, sleeping baby from his mother's arms with a tenderness that Hermione had never seen from him before. One look at his grandson's face and Lucius was in love.

"He is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen," Lucius whispered, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "He looks just like you did when you were born, Draco. What is his name?"

"Xenophilius Draco Malfoy," Luna announced with tears in her eyes. "I only wish my father were alive to see him."

"Thank you for this wonderful child, Miss Lovegood," Lucius said with a little more control over his speech. "I promise you that as long as there is breath in me I will do everything in my power to keep you and your son protected and cared for."

He handed his grandson back over to his mother. His hand immediately found Hermione's again. Sensing the exhaustion of the new family, Lucius led Hermione from the room after a couple of quick 'good nights'. He retained hold of her hand all the way until they reached his bedroom.

"Please stay here tonight."

They were the first words he had spoken to her since they had been downstairs in the study before Professor McGonagall entered the room. Hermione had no plans to argue with the man. There was no place she would rather be. The hour was late and they were both tired. Both of them quickly undressed and crawled under the covers of the large bed. Nothing else was said before Lucius wrapped his arms around Hermione and promptly fell asleep. She followed his example only seconds later.

Hermione awoke a few hours later with the distinct feeling of being all alone in the room. She turned over to find Lucius' side of the bed completely empty. A quick touch of the space he normally occupied found it to be quite cold. He had obviously not been in bed for a while. She surveyed the dark room for his figure, but there was no one there. No hint of where he was or why he had left. She couldn't explain why, but she was worried. Her robe was lying across one of the armchairs near the fireplace. She wrapped it around herself before walking out into the corridor.

Her feet carried her down to the ground floor before her mind was aware of where she was going. She turned down the hallway towards the room their guests were sleeping in. Hermione slowed her footsteps down as she got nearer the room to prevent any loud noises from disturbing them. The door to the guest room was cracked open. She approached the door cautiously. Draco and Luna were both still asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around the mother of his child. Hermione almost kept walking until she saw the timid movements near a window of a rocking chair she had not noticed earlier.

She carefully entered the room without making a single noise. Lucius was holding his grandson. The baby was awake and staring intently at his grandfather. Hermione had to suppress a laugh at the almost identical expressions they had on their faces. Both seemed to be scrutinizing the other. Lucius was aware of her presence before she even made it to the rocking chair.

"I could not sleep," Lucius whispered when she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I came down to check on them and this little wizard was awake."

"He is so beautiful, Lucius."

"Yes, he is." Lucius looked up at her to smile with tears freely falling from his eyes. "He is so beautiful I fear my heart will beat right out of my chest just by looking at him."

Hermione gently squeezed his shoulder. Little Xenophilius Malfoy examined her just as intently as he had his grandfather before closing his little grey eyes and falling promptly asleep. Several minutes passed in silence with neither of them moving. Lucius finally rose carefully from the chair to place his first grandchild into the bassinet next to the bed. He stared at Xenophilius for a few more moments before turning back towards Hermione. He held his hand out to her which she immediately took in hers.

"Come back to bed," she whispered.

Neither said a word to the other as they made their way back to what had become their bedroom. They crawled back into bed in the same positions they had earlier in the night. Lucius increased the pressure of his arms around Hermione's body slightly and pulled her even closer to his chest.

"I am very sorry that I frightened you earlier, Hermione," he spoke with a low voice. "But I would much rather you hate me and still be alive. I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you, my darling."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Hermione had some difficulty finding sleep after returning to bed with Lucius. Her mind refused to shut itself off. So much had happened in the previous thirty-six hours that she had trouble wrapping her brain around it all. Luna and Draco showing up when they did provided a distraction from the pressing issues for a little while, but like they always do, problems began to nag at her while she tried to sleep.

 _The shock must be wearing off_ , she thought. She killed a woman and believed she had been kidnapped by a crazed Death Eater who was obsessed with her. She spent an entire night alone locked up in the basement believing that it would only be a matter of time before she was brutally tortured and raped. Realizing that she'd actually be captured by Lucius and her imprisonment down in the basement had been a "lesson" annoyed and humiliated her all the way down to her toes.

Yes, she could agree that perhaps she had been overly confident in her abilities the night of the raid. Yes, she promised Lucius she would return home the moment she was even close to being in any danger and she didn't. Yes, she actively chose not to think about the consequences of using her old wand that she knew was currently being tracked by a rather motivated Albert Runcorn with the Ministry of Magic and used the damn thing anyway without considering all her available options first. She couldn't deny that she'd made grave mistakes that night. Mistakes that could have easily cost her freedom or even her life. It was all very serious, but she couldn't believe the lengths Lucius went to to make certain she knew how costly those mistakes could have been.

Was Lucius right? If he had removed his mask and revealed his true identity the moment they Apparated outside of the manor gates, would she have truly understood how much danger she'd put herself into? Or would she have been relieved to have been saved _yet again_ and not hesitated to put herself back into the very same danger in the future? Was a part of her always simply expecting Lucius or someone else to be around to save her just in the nick of time? Did she truly believe she was invincible? She had been putting herself in dangerous situations for _years_. She should have been killed by some of them. Somehow, however, there was always someone or something there to save her. Did she have unrealistic expectations? Even Bellatrix Lestrange's attack on her in the very same manor she had come to love and feel safe in was another example of a time she was in grave danger, only moments away from being Greyback's snack, and she was miraculously saved by Dobby the house elf at the very last second. She'd been accustomed to being saved no matter what she got herself involved in. How many times locked in that basement did she simply _expect_ Lucius or another member of the Resistance to find her and save her?

She lingered on his words about not being a good man while she was alone in the study. There were parts of his past that she never wanted to know anything about. Parts that she knew would terrify her and make her run away from him if she knew all of the details. She truly was not lying to herself when she reminded herself repeatedly that he was no longer that man that he used to be. Too much had been taken from him. He never spoke about Azkaban. She could only imagine what sort of horrors he experienced in his time there. It was enough to change any person. She remembered how different he'd looked the night that she was brought to the manor by Snatchers during the war. She almost did not recognize the man as being the same one who once got into a physical fight with Arthur Weasley in Flourish and Blotts. His demons were already attacking him at that point.

She was loathe to admit it, but maybe Lucius was right to teach her that she couldn't just rush into any situation with bravado and sheer nerve and expect to come back out all right. After all, isn't that exactly what Harry had done right before he was murdered in front of everyone in the Great Hall? Lucius' tactics were brutal, barbaric even, but they were reality. She was raised to believe that there was never a time when it was acceptable to strike a woman. _Never_. Too bad that world just simply didn't exist anymore. The world she lived in was cruel and hateful and dangerous. Sometimes she still had trouble remembering that normal rules of behaviors and expectations did not always apply in a world dominated by Lord Voldemort. Lucius reminded her that this all was not a game.

But if he thought for a moment she would ever let him get away with hurting her again…

Hermione laid awake remembering that night and remembering the conversation she had with Lucius the next morning until the clock in the bedroom began to strike seven. It was earlier than she normally got up, but she knew it was no use remaining in bed and not sleeping. She stretched her arms above her, thinking about what she could make everyone for breakfast. It had been a long night and she was certain that everyone else in the manor would wake up just as hungry as she had. While she tried to remember the exact number of eggs she had left over from the last time she cooked, a rather undignified snore that the Lord of Malfoy Manor would be horrified to learn came from his mouth drifted over to her ear.

Lucius was the most beautiful man Hermione had ever seen. Even as a twelve year old girl she thought that the first time she saw him. When he was awake, his features could be hard if he was not vigorously keeping his facial expressions hidden behind a cold mask and an unwelcoming sneer. Asleep he was breathtaking. She rolled over on to her side to examine the man in more detail. If someone had told her even six months ago that there would come a day when she would willingly and enthusiastically share Lucius Malfoy's bed, she would have recommended they visit the Healers of St. Mungo's for a thorough examination. Her life converged with his in a most unexpected way. As different as they both were, they were essentially two lost souls wandering through a very lonely world. She often had a hard time believing where she was. And how many times had she inadvertently referred to the place of her torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort's insane late right hand as _home_? Life did not always turn out like one planned that was for sure.

Hermione felt her wand under her pillow. She had taken to keeping it as close to her as possible while sleeping since long, long before the Battle for Hogwarts. Grasping it in her hand, she was thankful that Lucius had had the presence of mind to retrieve _both_ of her wands at the scene of Umbridge's murder. Her original wand was somewhere in the manor locked up where Lucius assured her she would never find it again, but he left her new one next to her pillow with a note the day before when she was sleeping in her old room.

Another loud snore escaped from Lucius and Hermione had to stop herself from snorting. She found herself envying the man for his deep sleep and wondered when she would be able to go back to sleeping on some semblance of a normal schedule again. Her grandmother used to always ask her when she had trouble sleeping if it was because she had a guilty conscience. Grannie Granger was convinced that all insomnia was due to feeling remorseful about something. One look at Lucius Malfoy's slumbering face and Hermione could swear that he was as innocent as a newly borne babe. How deceptive. He was completely vulnerable and at her mercy while he slept.

" _Incarcerous!_ "

She wasn't sure what exactly ran through her mind to encourage her to cast a binding charm on Lucius, but the words were out of her mouth before she thought twice about it. His arms and legs, which only moments before were relaxed and sprawled across the large bed, immediately shot up into the air to be bound swiftly with ropes. Hermione swished her wand to attach the ropes to the four corners of the bed.

"Witch!" Lucius bellowed the moment he was aware of just what caused his rather abrupt and jarring return from dreamland. "Release me!"

Hermione fought the urge to laugh. No doubt the great and powerful Lucius Malfoy, one of the most skilled duelers alive, was mortified at being subdued by a witch less than half his age simply because he allowed himself to relax in her presence enough to sleep. It was very comical. A smile must have crept its way onto her face without her knowledge because he glared at her with a fury she had rarely seen before.

"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded, attempting and failing to assert his power and dominance into the situation.

Hermione moved quickly to straddle his hips with her legs. A flash across his eyes revealed he was both furious and perhaps a little excited by being woken up with tight ropes around his arms and legs. She gave him a warm smile that he returned with an angry sneer.

"Answer me, witch! What do you think you are doing?"

Hermione leaned over his chest, his breathing quickening, and whispered in his ear.

"I am teaching _you_ a valuable lesson."

She sat back up immediately. A low growl escaped from Lucius' chest. He was not pleased with the turn of events. After struggling with his bonds, Lucius tried to summon his wand using only his hands, but his concentration was not strong enough to perform any wandless magic that morning. He glared up at the young woman still straddling his hips with irritation and frustration in his eyes.

"I didn't really care for your tactics the other evening," she informed him. "They were too harsh. Not at all the way a gentleman should treat the lady he professes to care for."

"I have already apologized for my behavior that night," he replied, struggling to keep his voice under control. It was apparent that he was only moments away from yelling at her once again.

Without responding, Hermione put all of her limited strength into a backhanded slap across his beautiful face. His eyes opened widely in rage and shock. In a mirror of his actions, she slapped him a second time before he had recovered from the shock of the first.

"Why you little…"

Hermione reached down to grasp a part of his body that most men find exceptionally sensitive. With a prolonged squeeze and a sharp intake of breath from the man below her that cut off the rest of the sentence he was about to utter, Hermione smiled again.

"If you _ever_ hit me again, so much as tap my bum too harshly," she began. "I will hex your bollocks in all fifteen of the imaginative ways I laid up last night inventing."

His eyes widened, but he did not say a word. Hermione released her hold on his body and crawled off the bed. She pulled her robe on before heading towards the door.

"Are you planning on leaving me like this?" he asked, his usual silky, cool demeanor back in place.

"Like I said, Lucius, you have a _valuable_ lesson to learn."

Hermione shut the door behind her and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She could not believe how calmly she had just tied him up, hit him twice across the face and then squeezed him until she thought his eyes would pop out of his skull. It was strangely liberating and her anger at him from earlier began to dissipate. They weren't completely out of the woods yet. There would be conversations to come about that night again, but they would still be there waiting for them later.

She was alone in the kitchen for at least fifteen minutes when the door opened to admit an exhausted Draco. Their eyes met in a moment of awkward recognition. Hermione briefly wondered if there would ever come a time when she and Lucius' son could be in a room comfortably together. Draco was part of Lucius and Hermione wasn't planning on leaving Lucius' life any time soon.

"Good morning, Granger," he greeted stiffly as he poured himself a cup of tea Hermione just finished preparing.

"Good morning, Draco," she replied no longer wishing to have the insincere formality between the two of them. They were no longer in school after all. "How is Luna doing this morning?"

A smile flickered across his face before he put the same mask his father always wore back on.

"She's doing well. Still very tired, of course. She and Xeno are asleep again."

"I was just about to make an omelet. Would you care for one?"

"Thank you, Gr… _Hermione_ , I would love one."

He seated himself at the plank table with the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Neither of them said a word to the other as Hermione fixed them both breakfast. She had her mind focused on other things. Part of her was struggling with the urge to run back upstairs, release Lucius, and make it up to him with more than just eggs. She resolutely continued breakfast preparations.

"Thank you," Draco said when she placed a steaming omelet in front of him a few minutes later. She sat in her customary spot across from him. "Will Father be joining us?"

"Maybe later," she replied. "Lucius is a little tied up right now."

Draco raised his eyes off of the newspaper to meet hers. He raised a single eyebrow and the expression was so like his father that Hermione almost burst out laughing.

" _Figuratively_ , right? My father is _figuratively_ tied up right now?"

"Do you really want to know, Draco?" she challenged him with a smirk.

Draco's eyes dropped immediately down to his breakfast.

"No, I do _not_."

Hermione giggled at his discomfort. It had been too easy. They enjoyed their breakfast in surprisingly companionable silence. After the first few minutes when Draco regained a bit of his lost composure, he began a discussion of what he was reading in the paper. The news was still heavily covering the raid at the Umbridge Home and Umbridge's murder.

"They got every single girl out," Draco announced. "Every last one."

"That's wonderful to hear!" Hermione replied. "I left before it was all over."

"You realize you have become something of a hero, right?" he asked.

"Umm, no… For what?"

She was incredibly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. Not enough time had passed yet. She wasn't ready to discuss her part in the eradication of Dolores Umbridge from the world. Draco laughed before continuing.

"You are being celebrated all over the country, discreetly of course, for killing that horrible cow. I expect there to be a Hermione Granger monument erected any day now."

"I didn't mean to kill her," Hermione answered in a whisper.

"No, I'm sure you didn't." Draco's voice was warm and soft. He had never spoken so kindly to her before. "I, for one, am thankful that you did, however. That woman was a monster. She is responsible for what happened to Luna and I will never forgive her for it."

"At least something good came out of it. Your son is wonderful."

The first truly genuine smile Hermione had ever seen on Draco Malfoy's face appeared.

"Yes, he is. So is his mother," Draco said. "You must think I'm a horrible person."

She was surprised by his last words and told him so. Yes, they'd had their problems in the past, but they were living in a different world.

"I didn't want to go to the Umbridge Home," he answered. "That first time. I didn't want to go to a prison where girls I knew were being held and forced to have sex with men given permission by the Ministry. It was unconscionable.

"I didn't have a choice though. Some of the new professors who are Death Eaters forced me to go with them the first night. I was terrified. Almost threw up half a dozen times. They took me to the first floor where all of the girls were being kept. They were laughing and joking as they decided who they were going to pick. I knew every single girl I saw. Every single one of them."

Draco paused for a moment before continuing. Hermione didn't have anything to say in response. She knew that he needed to bare his soul at that moment.

"Susan Bones actually spit on me when she saw me. Screamed at me for being a disgusting traitor. Amycus liked her spirit and dragged her off still screaming at me. All of the other girls were crying, begging to be left alone. Except for Luna. She stood there serenely as my _associates_ walked up and down the line leering and taunting.

"Mulciber liked the look of her. Announced to the group that he wanted to see her crying like all of the other girls. I pushed him out of the way and grabbed Luna myself. He thought it was funny and let me go. Called out after me to show her what it meant to be with a Death Eater.

"When Luna was locked up in my cellar I used to visit her. I always took their meals down when I could. Wanted to make sure that she and Mr. Ollivander were all right. My aunt sometimes liked to _play_ with her captives."

Hermione's hand subconsciously went to her arm to touch the scar Bellatrix carved into her skin. It was fading, thankfully, but the world "Mudblood" still made her feel self-conscious when she caught a glimpse of it. Yes, Hermione was well aware of how his aunt liked to _play_.

"I always felt so guilty that they were down there and there was nothing I could do to get them out. It made me sick. When I saw Luna standing there with Mulciber I didn't hesitate. It wasn't until we were in her room that I fully understood what was to be expected of me.

"But I did everything in my power to keep her safe. She never had to be bothered by anyone else after that. I could keep her from being with someone who would only hurt her."

"When did you fall in love with her?" Hermione asked gently.

Draco smiled again.

"That first night," he answered. "Though I didn't realize it until later. She is remarkable."

"Yes, she is. I'm so thankful you were able to keep her safe, Draco."

They fell back into a silence as they finished their meal. Draco's words hung in the air over them both. Hermione meant every word that she said. If Draco hadn't been there to keep other less _desirable_ men away from Luna, there was no telling what might have happened to her. She was amazed to hear that all of the girls made it out safely. It was a miracle. She was grateful for the careful planning and organization of the raid.

"You love my father."

It wasn't a question. Hermione nodded her head once.

"And it is obvious he feels the same way," Draco continued. "I'm glad."

Hermione's hesitant smile matched Draco's. His reaction to learning about the relationship between his father and one of his old school nemeses was surprising. Hermione expected petulant, anti-Mudblood Draco. The war had certainly changed more people than just her.

"I saw you two when Father was holding Xeno early this morning," he explained. "It wasn't hard to figure out by watching you two that there's more there than just sex like I thought before."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden.

"I'm glad he's not here alone," Draco continued.

The door to the kitchen swung open with a bang that caused them both to jump in their seats. A deceptively calm Lucius entered the room. Hermione rose from her chair and crossed to the stove to make him breakfast. Men were usually easier to handle once their stomachs were full.

"I will deal with you later," Lucius promised her in a whisper as he passed her on the way to the table.

If his threat was intended to frighten Hermione or make her nervous, he severely missed the mark. A tingle of expectation filled her body. She could hardly wait.

"Good morning, Father," Draco said not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

Minutes later Hermione placed another omelet in front of Lucius and took the seat next to him. Absentmindedly as if it were the most normal thing to do, he placed his free hand on her thigh. Obviously he wasn't as upset with her as she assumed he would be.

"I have to return to Hogwarts today," Draco said after the initial greetings and questions about his family's well-being from his father.

"Already? That seems sudden," Lucius replied.

"Horace lied and said I would be attending a conference in France for a week. He thinks I've actually been visiting a sick relative," Draco explained. "I was helping prepare for the raid before it happened. I thought I should leave Hogwarts several days before it happened and return several days after it happened to prevent as much suspicion as possible."

"What about Luna and little Xenophilius? As much as I would love to keep them here permanently it is simply too risky."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Father. I've arranged for Luna and our baby to stay with a sister of Mr. Ollivander. She lives somewhere in southern Ireland. I'm not sure where. It's best that I not know too much."

"Indeed."

"Dean Thomas has promised to take Luna there for me, but she needs to catch a boat late tonight."

"A boat? Can you not use a portkey?"

"No, too risky. The Ministry is searching all magical transportation for any signs of young, pregnant women or young women with newborn babies. Dean assured me that Muggle transportation isn't being watched. Luna and Xeno must be in Liverpool by eleven o'clock tonight. Can you take them, Father?"

"Of course."

Draco looked at Hermione with dread on his face. She was certain she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"And Hermione…" He hesitated.

"You would like me to stay behind?"

He nodded.

"It's all right, Draco. I understand. I'm too well known."

Lucius squeezed her thigh affectionately.

"I, uhh, have tickets for the train," Draco said nervously.

"Muggle train?" Lucius was unable to hide his disgust from his voice. Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle at the thought of Lucius spending the better part of his day trapped on a train with Muggles, Loony Luna Lovegood and a brand new baby. Part of her wished she could be a fly on the wall of that train compartment. Lucius ignored her outburst and looked at the tickets with a distasteful sneer.

"We will need to leave soon," he said after noticing the departure time.

"I will go help Luna get ready."

Draco left the kitchen in a rush leaving the two alone for the first time since Hermione tied him up and left him in bed. She should've been nervous, but she wasn't. Lucius turned to her with the faintest smirk on his lips.

"Inventive way to wake me up this morning."

"Did you enjoy it? We could do it again."

"Tempting offer, witch, but I think not."

Lucius leaned over to kiss her for the first time since she ran off with Ryan to the raid. There would be plenty of time later for them to talk about that night and the ensuing aftermath. She wasn't exactly in a hurry to relive it again any time soon.

"I hope to be back before midnight," Lucius said when he broke the embrace. "Will you be all right?"

"Of course I will, Lucius. I'm not a child. I can stay home unsupervised for a few hours."

"I will write down the incantations for you to bring down the wards, if necessary. I do not anticipate any visitors but it would be helpful for you to know what to do just in case."

"All right."

"Please be sure that you remember to bring them back up once you let anyone in. Otherwise you will have no warning if someone else arrives."

"Okay, but I'm sure it will be just another quiet night. No one's come to visit in a while now."

"Best to be prepared."

Less than an hour later Hermione hugged Luna goodbye and kissed the top of her baby's head. Lucius was dressed in Muggle clothes and his hair was pulled back, but she was certain he would still be garnering a lot of attention wherever they went. She gave him a kiss that wasn't as passionate as the one he gave her the last time she left the estate, but she didn't have a reason to proclaim her possessiveness of him amongst their current company. Luna covered herself and Xeno in Harry's invisibility cloak before heading out the door.

"Come back to me," Hermione whispered before kissing Lucius a final time.

Hermione wasn't sure what to with herself when everyone left. She was used to spending afternoons by herself while Lucius went out into the rest of the wizarding world, but an entire day alone was somewhat daunting. She played with the dogs outside disgustingly disguised as Isla Black-Fawley, of course, for a couple of hours. Summer was almost there and she was thoroughly enjoying the beautiful weather. When the dogs were ready to begin their long series of naps, she curled up on Lucius' sofa with a book. It didn't take long before she fell asleep for a decadently long nap.

The intruder alarms woke her up several hours later. She jumped off the sofa, startling the already startled dogs. A quick look outside showed that the sun was almost completely out of the sky. She looked at the clock and it was almost nine o'clock. No one was expected, so she knew exactly who was waiting outside the gates.

Sighing a frustrated sigh, Hermione brought down the wards quickly and took another dose of the hated polyjuice potion. She left the study slowly, wishing to be anywhere in the world but where she was. There was a knock on the front door before she even made it to the entrance hall. When she pulled the front door open she was immediately greeted by the unnervingly happy Rabastan Lestrange.

"Good evening, Mr. Lestrange," she greeted with a sincerity she did not feel.

"Good evening, Miss Black," he replied, taking her hand in his to kiss. She wanted to wipe her hand off on her jeans immediately, but he did not relinquish control.

A sulky Antonin Dolohov entered the door behind him. Strange that she was almost relieved to see that wizard. At least with Dolohov in the same house Lestrange was unlikely to try to rape her again. She greeted the second wizard and invited them both inside.

"I'm afraid Lucius is out for the evening," she announced as she closed the front door behind them.

"Is he?" Rabastan asked, too excited by the prospect of not seeing Lucius to hide his glee. "All night?"

Hermione had to swallow down a wave of nausea at his question. How could one man be so positively disgusting using only his words and the wiggling of his eyebrows? She would never get used to being in the same room with Rabastan Lestrange.

"I expect he will return quite late," she answered. "I'm sorry that you both wasted a trip to see him."

"Not to worry, my dear. Lucius invited us to partake of his cellar's bounties whenever we wished. Your company is just as welcome as his."

Antonin gave her a look that was almost a silent apology. He was back to the same bad-tempered, unsociable figure he had been the first night they came to visit. Back then he had been upset that he failed to catch the Undesirable No 2. Hermione was certain that after the failures of the other evening he was upset for the same reasons.

"My dear mate Antonin and I have had a rough few days," Rabastan continued. "Would you be terribly averse to extending your hospitality for a few short hours?"

 _Yes_. "Of course not. Please come into the drawing room. I apologize for my attire. I wasn't expecting any company this evening."

Rabastan leaned down to whisper in her ear. The palm of a hand brushed against her bum.

"I ordinarily do not care for such blatant Muggle attire," he whispered. "But I must say your arse looks positively delicious."

Hermione struggled to hide the disgusted shudder that suddenly built up inside of her. When the two men were in the drawing room she asked them to take their seats in their usual armchairs. With a flick of her wand she lit the fire. Even in early June certain rooms of the manor could be chilly and drafty. There was only one bottle of wine left on the side table. She sincerely hoped that they wouldn't want more, but knew better than to believe she wouldn't have to make another trip down into the cellar.

"Thank you, Miss Black," Antonin said, his first words of the evening.

"You're welcome, Mr. Dolohov."

She sat down in her usual spot, wishing Lucius was there beside her. Alone in a manor with two Death Eaters. This was a recipe for complete and utter disaster. Unconsciously she fingered the vial of polyjuice potion she placed in her jeans pocket for reassurance.

"I'm afraid it has been left to me once more to entertain my surly friend here," Rabastan said. The man simply did not know when to shut up. "You heard about the raid on the Umbridge Home of course?"

Hermione nodded that she had. Dolohov narrowed his eyes at Lestrange but didn't say a word.

"Complete bloody mess! We were busy in Scotland when the break-in began. That Longbottom boy and the former auror set fire to half of Hogsmeade. We were certain that it was an attack that was going to spill over into the Hogwarts grounds. After we all arrived and began dueling, we realized it was only a small part of their force. A distraction, if you will. The real action was happening just outside of London."

Rabastan emptied his glass of wine before continuing. Hermione filled it, cursing the almost empty bottle.

"How frightening," she replied. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Not to worry, my dear. We were only fighting rabble in Hogsmeade. No severe injuries. Not even the traitors sustained very many injuries. Certainly no deaths, anyway. We had hardly hit our stride before we received notice from the Ministry that armed wizards had broken into the Umbridge Home to release the prisoners. Everyone Apparated to London forthwith.

"Poor Antonin here was close to capturing his little Mudblood prize again, but she slipped right through his fingers."

Hermione swallowed and felt her hands grow clammy.

"What happened?" She looked towards the sullen wizard, but it was the repulsive wizard that answered.

"The little Mudblood just simply showed up outside the perimeter. The rebels put up some kind of protective barriers around the building. Antonin is an expert curse breaker. He and several others tried to bring down the barrier to allow us access to the building. While he was busy trying to break the enchantments, the filthy Mudblood actually _murdered_ the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic!"

"Oh no!"

"Yes, poor thing. She used some Dark cutting spell none of us had ever seen before. Poor Dolores exsanguinated in seconds. What a brutal way to go!"

"Oh, my. That sounds awful." Hermione suppressed a snort that this idiot actually seemed to believe that she was distressed by the news of Umbridge's death. Obviously Lucius' Slytherin ways were rubbing off on her.

"Indeed. Granger used her old wand she hadn't used in over a year. It signaled Albert Runcorn, the wizard who is in charge of monitoring the wands of the rebels. He and his assistant Apparated to the spot directly. Saw Granger standing over Dolores' body with a demented smile on her face. Sent his assistant off to find Antonin who incidentally wasn't very far away at all. By the time poor Antonin arrived, the idiot Runcorn allowed the first person in a black robe and mask to take the Mudblood away! I've never seen my friend here as angry as he was at that moment. Truly terrifying. Runcorn will likely be St. Mungo's for a week."

"How distressing. You were so close."

Antonin gave her a tight smile that lasted half a second. Rabastan continued.

"Yes, Miss Black. Very distressing. There is a very dangerous criminal still on the loose. We can only hope that she is captured soon."

"Indeed."

Hermione crossed back over to the side table where the wine bottle was located. She refilled Dolohov's glass and called the bottle done.

"I will just pop down into the cellar for some more," she suggested.

Antonin rose immediately from his seat and invited himself to accompany her. She found herself grateful it was his company and not Rabastan's. The irony was not lost on her.

"Do you have somewhere else to stay tonight, Miss Black?" Antonin spoke his first words to her as they were descending the staircase into the cellar.

"Why would I need to?"

"I did not like the way Rabastan looked at you when he found out that Lucius left you here alone. I think it would be safer for you if you stayed somewhere else. Perhaps you can still get a room at the Leaky Cauldron in London."

She was almost touched that this man who was so intent on finding her was concerned that her "alter ego" was in danger. It would have been endearing coming out of the mouth of just about any other person in the world. Of course she was mildly concerned that when they left Rabastan might return on his own before Lucius arrived. She wasn't going to get caught off guard this time however. She had a wand and she knew how to use it.

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Dolohov, but I will be fine. Mr. Lestrange does not scare me and I am sure Lucius will return before much longer."

"As you will, Miss Black. I just thought I would make the suggestion."

He lit the torches this time with his wand and walked over to the same wine rack they went to on their last trip to the cellar. Antonin began pulling down a few bottles, enough it seemed to keep them all occupied until well past midnight. Perhaps that was his plan. Try to keep the wine flowing until he was certain that Lucius would return in enough time to keep her safe. Or get Rabastan so drunk he was unable to anything other than fall asleep. He was a thoughtful man even if he was a notorious torturer and murderer.

"Have you been able to move into your cottage yet?" She asked.

Dolohov turned to her and gave her one of the first sincere smiles she'd seen on his face.

"Not yet, but very soon. Almost all of the rooms are ready. There are still improvements needed before the kitchen is just how I want it."

"I'm glad to hear it." And strangely enough, she really was.

"It will be nice to finally move out of the Lestrange manor."

"I'm sure it will."

They both chuckled. Hermione took a couple of bottles out of his hands before turning to head back up the staircase. Neither of them said anything the rest of the journey back to the drawing room. It was nice to not always be expected to talk all of the time. Hermione could appreciate that sometimes.

When Hermione approached the open door to the drawing room, she caught a glimpse of Rabastan standing in front of his chair smiling his disturbing smile. Her stomach began to twist and turn in knots for a reason she couldn't quite place. She stepped through the doorway and her eyes landed on someone she had never seen before in person. Her last thought before anyone spoke was that she forgot to bring the wards back up like Lucius told her to.

"Either I have fallen asleep and am having the most marvelous fantasy," Rabastan said with a laugh. "Or someone here isn't who they say they are."

Hermione made eye contact with the real Isla Black-Fawley. She dropped both bottles of wine to the floor with a crash. Antonin was right behind her and walked straight into her when she stopped sharply. His eyes travelled back and forth between the two identical women while Rabastan simply laughed.

"Who is this bitch?" Isla demanded. "Where is Lucius?"

Hermione didn't have a response. She was in complete shock. Rabastan pointed his wand at her and with a quick incantation a stream of what she thought was water splashed over her entire body. Just like when she passed under the Thief's Downfall in Gringotts, Hermione wasn't wet, but she was most decidedly no longer transformed under polyjuice.

She met the astonished eyes of Antonin Dolohov and moments later, unlike the night of the raid, she was one hundred percent positive that the arms she suddenly found herself in most certainly belonged to the feared Death Eater of her nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

 _How could you have been so stupid? How could you have been so bloody stupid? Lucius told you to raise the wards back up. How could you forget? Are you wanting to die?_ Hermione thought the same thoughts over and over again as she stood in the familiar drawing room with Antonin Dolohov's arms wrapped tightly across her chest. She could not believe that she forgot to put the protections and alarms back up once Rabastan Lestrange and the wizard holding her entered the manor. _Did that disgusting, virulent pig really unnerve me so much that I forgot something so basic?_

If Hermione had raised the wards like she was supposed to, she would've heard the alarms indicating a visitor at the gates while she was down in the wine cellar with Dolohov. She could've forced whomever it was to wait patiently outside the manor grounds until she could make it to the front door. One look at the real Isla Black-Fawley and she could've _stupefied_ her and hid her unconscious body somewhere in the garden before returning to her guests in the drawing room. Blamed the disruption on a drunken ex-mistress of Lucius' or something. They would've believed her.

The virulent pig leered down at her from across the room. Hermione was certain she was about to be violently sick all over the hardwoods. Isla stared down her haughty nose at her, the disgust she felt for the younger witch evident. Antonin's arm held her close, but with a gentleness she didn't expect. It was bizarre to Hermione that after so many months of nightmares and fears about Antonin Dolohov finally catching her, she felt safer with him than she did with the other wizard in the room.

"I must say that I am positively astonished that you are finally holding the elusive Hermione Granger in your arms right now, Antonin," said Rabastan with a smirk Hermione longed to curse off his face. "How does it feel to finally have your promised war prize, my friend?"

Antonin did not respond to his friend's teasing. He asserted the tiniest pressure with his arms and then began to rub his right hand over Hermione's shoulder in an almost tender, comforting manner. Part of Hermione was shocked that she wasn't already bleeding or completely naked. What were Dolohov's plans for her?

"I suspected Lucius was hiding someone in his house," Rabastan continued. "Though I will be the first to admit that you were not even on my list of the top one hundred possible candidates, Miss Granger. Do I detect a traitorous rebel in my old mate Lucius?"

Rabastan's laugh resonated across the drawing room. Hermione's stomach continued to churn. She noticed the clock on the mantle showed it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. Lucius wasn't expected back home for another two hours. Could she keep Rabastan talking that long? She was fairly certain that she could, but couldn't guarantee that the other wizard would allow it.

"Where the hell is Lucius?" Isla demanded of Rabastan. "You said he would be here. I want to spit in his eye! How dare he allow some filthy little Mudblood whore to transform into me. It's revolting!"

"Now now, my dear. You will get your chance," he assured her.

Rabastan put his arm around Isla's shoulders and Hermione couldn't believe the other witch didn't immediately shrug it off. Hermione would've in a second. In fact, not only did Miss Black-Fawley not push Rabastan Lestrange away in complete disgust, but she actually looked up at him and smiled. Smiled! Maybe there was something to Lucius' observances that if Rabastan ever met the real Isla they would make a good match. Hermione struggled to keep her meager dinner and the single glass of wine down at the thought. To imagine that anyone would willingly suffer and appreciate his advances… she couldn't bear the thought.

"How long have you known?" Hermione asked surprising everyone in the room including herself. She had to stall for time. If Dolohov took her away from the manor before Lucius returned she was certain she would never see the manor again. "When did you suspect I wasn't who I said I was?"

"I've always thought you were a little strange," Rabastan replied. "Something about you didn't seem to fit. I thought the night I met you that there was something off, but I discounted it as a possible American eccentricity you'd picked up living abroad. And then the night of my reception…"

"You mean the night you tried to rape me?" she spat.

Rabastan didn't even have the common decency to act like he was remorseful of his actions that evening. A normal man would at least feel a bit uncomfortable at an accusation like hers. Rabastan's cheeks did not even turn the slightest hint of pink. In fact, his eyes sparkled and he laughed again.

"Don't pretend that you didn't enjoy that, Mudblood!"

Rabastan crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. His breath was warm on her face. He reached up to run his slimy hand down her cheek. Hermione was certain his touch was poisonous and it was going to kill her. Every cell in her body screamed at the contact.

"Rabastan…" Antonin practically growled.

Lestrange removed his hand from her face as it were made entirely of hot, burning coals. He wiped his hand on the side of his outer robes. It was obvious that Rabastan Lestrange was afraid of his companion. For the second time that evening Hermione was thankful that the Death Eater who wanted her was Dolohov. At the very least he didn't seem likely to allow anyone else to touch her.

"I seem to recall you were begging me for it that night," he continued.

"I was begging you to get your filthy, disgusting hands off of me!"

Rabastan didn't seem to hear her denial.

"You were begging me to touch you. Begging me to fill your filthy Mudblood cunt with my perfect Pureblood cock!"

Dolohov's grasp on Hermione became loose enough at that point that she had the freedom to reach up and slap Rabastan's face hard enough to leave a perfect red handprint behind. Rabastan was incensed and Hermione could almost swear she heard a quiet chuckle behind her.

"If you didn't belong to Antonin, I would make you pay for that in a number of highly painful and disturbing ways, you little bitch!"

"Rabastan!" Antonin warned again.

The disgusting wizard took a moment to compose himself. He took a deep breath before returning to his neglected wine glass. After emptying it in one swallow, Rabastan turned back around to face the assembled group with his usual equanimity.

"Naturally after that evening I was a little suspicious of you and the manner in which Lucius was so determined to protect you," he continued. "I began to wonder why I hadn't seen you outside this manor. When I returned to apologize for my behavior a few weeks later, Antonin made the observation to me that he believed Lucius was sleeping with his goddaughter."

Isla snorted in derision at the comment.

"In his dreams!" She almost shouted.

Hermione considered briefly confronting the other witch with the details of the story of _her_ failed seductions of Lucius, but opted to keep her mouth shut. There was enough contention to deal with already without adding even more. She glanced up at the mantle clock to see that only fifteen agonizingly long minutes had passed. Her plan to keep them all occupied until after midnight was beginning to seem futile.

"Remembering my acquaintance with Eleanor Fawley from our days at Hogwarts together," Rabastan continued, ignoring Isla's outburst. "I decided to send a letter to my old friend. I let her know what a pleasure it had been to get to know her daughter while she was visiting in England, but I did have some concerns with her being cooped up alone in this mansion with a notorious womanizer like Lucius. Imagine my surprise when I get a letter back from Eleanor telling me that I must be confused because her daughter would never return to visit the Malfoys especially after poor Narcissa's death, and in fact, her daughter was currently living in the same house she was and most definitely had not been in England for months.

"I sent Eleanor a clipping of the Daily Prophet from the night of my party showing whom I assumed to be her daughter arriving on the arm of a Mr. Lucius Malfoy. I knew right then that we had an interesting secret to uncover. Who was Lucius so protective of and so desperate to hide that he'd resorted to using what was obviously polyjuice potion? Again, Miss Granger, you have surpassed all of my expectations."

"Who did you think I was?" She had to keep him talking. Not enough time had passed yet.

"I began to suspect that Lucius had a mistress he wanted to keep out of the Umbridge Home. Made the most sense. I wasn't sure who it was, but so many young witches were being sent there for various reasons that I simply assumed you were one of them. Maybe a pureblood daughter of a blood traitor. If I didn't already know Lucius' fierce hatred for the Weasley family I would've thought you might have been Arthur's daughter."

Hermione almost laughed out loud at the thought of Ginny Weasley being kept in Malfoy Manor for an extended period of time with Lucius. They would both be sick of each other after less than a day and might even resort to killing each other after less than a week. Ginny would never forgive Lucius for the part he played in getting her involved with the Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle in her first year. Lucius would probably hide her if requested, but they certainly would never be able to live together harmoniously.

"How long have you been here?" Rabastan demanded. "You already seemed fairly settled in the first night Antonin and I came to visit."

"January twenty-eighth."

The words came out of Dolohov's mouth in almost a whisper. He obviously was putting the pieces of the story together.

"Lucius found you in Inverness, didn't he?"

Antonin carefully turned Hermione around to face him. She was hesitant to meet his eyes. He was notorious for having a bad temper and his vehemence at finding her that cold winter night still frightened her. She lost count the number of times she had a nightmare in which she was back in Scotland running for her life away from this man. When a few moments passed without her looking at him or answering his question, Antonin placed a hand under her chin to gingerly force her eyes up to his.

"You were hiding in that garden where Albert and I found Lucius."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she silently nodded her head. There was no reason to lie. He was an intelligent enough man to figure the truth out anyway.

"He asked Albert to bring down the anti-apparition wards for a few minutes before we returned to the pub we tracked you to earlier that evening," Antonin continued. "He got you out of the city in those minutes. That's why we searched the damn city for two days straight and found no more traces of you."

"Oh my, Lucius is a naughty boy, isn't he?" asked Rabastan.

Hermione didn't know what to do. Not only was she captured and at the mercy of two dangerous former inhabitants of Azkaban, but Lucius' cover was blown. He was in just as much danger now as she was if they caught him. Somehow she didn't believe Lord Voldemort would be merciful to a man who had already been deemed a traitor based on his wife's actions. Lucius was soon to be a marked man. Even if he somehow managed to return to the manor in time to save her, he would have to go on the run. His home was no longer safe. Not unless he was able to kill the two wizards and the witch he hated and covered up all of the evidence before the realization that the Undesirable No 2 had been living with him for months was reported. It wasn't impossible, but Hermione certainly did not like the odds.

"I believe, Antonin, that I have solved the mystery of who it was that plucked Miss Granger from Albert Runcorn," Rabastan announced. "Obviously our former comrade in arms retained his mask and robes for just such an event. You were quite fortunate, Miss Granger, that no one discovered the ruse that evening. You and he both would have been taken straight to the Dark Lord and before you were turned over to Antonin's permanent keeping, you likely would have been forced to watch your lover tortured into insanity. Maybe the Dark Lord would have even allowed you to hold the wand."

Hermione was desperate to change the topic of conversation. She couldn't bear to contemplate Rabastan's words too closely because she knew there was a great deal of truth in them. It was exactly something that Lord Voldemort would do… it was something he _had_ done.

"Why is _she_ here?" Hermione demanded, using her head to gesture towards Isla.

Rabastan laughed again at her. She would never grow used to hearing that horrid man laugh.

"After a few more exchanges of letters between Eleanor and myself completely illuminating the fact that Lucius was somehow using her daughter's essence to hide someone in his home, we made a plan together to bring the _real_ Isla to England to confront her godfather."

"You've been planning this for some time?" Antonin asked.

"Yes, my friend, and I am sorry that I did not let you in on my little secret earlier this evening. Had I any reason to suspect that Hermione Granger was the very person that Lucius was concealing I would have let you know of my plan immediately. When we walked into the front hall this evening I placed the mildest Confundus Charm on Miss Granger. Not strong enough for her to really notice, but enough that I knew she would forget to bring the wards back up. The last thing I needed was for her to be alerted that someone else was coming up the walkway."

He began to address Hermione directly again.

"When we entered the drawing room I banished all but a single bottle of wine. I knew that you would have to go back down into the cellar for more and I also knew that my dear friend here would never allow you to go by yourself considering our _history_ together. Once you and Antonin were downstairs retrieving the wine, I allowed Isla inside. She had been waiting at the front gates since a few minutes after we arrived. I asked her to keep herself hidden so Antonin didn't know she was here and couldn't inadvertently tip you off."

"Why not wait until Lucius returned? I'm sure you would've loved to do all of this while he was here to see it." Indeed it seemed almost out of character that Rabastan would continue through with his master plan without the proper audience assembled first.

"I will admit that I am a little disappointed by Lucius not being here right now," he admitted. "But I am sure there will be plenty of time to bring him up to speed when he finally does return. I doubt, however, that Antonin will be here when he arrives. No doubt he has some hidey hole prepared and ready to stash you in."

Hermione racked her brain for any thoughts on how to prolong the interaction. She didn't exactly want to remain in Rabastan's presence any longer than she had to, but she also couldn't allow Antonin to remove her from the manor just yet. She had to waste more time. Her eyes fell on the other witch in the room. Isla was obviously annoyed and ready for this entire situation to be over. She was almost as anxious for Lucius to arrive as Hermione was. Isla might be making it seem that she wanted to see Lucius only to yell at him and spit on him, but Hermione's female intuition told her that there was a great deal more to the story than that. Isla was the weakest link of the group. She was the key to keeping Hermione in the manor for longer.

"Do you honestly believe that Lucius is going to suddenly want you when he returns?" Hermione demanded of the other woman.

"Excuse me?" Isla glared daggers at her and moved closer to where she was still being held by Dolohov.

"Lucius wasn't interested in you the last time you were here. What makes you think that he will want you now?"

"That is so not why I am here. As if I would _ever_ want anything to do with that man!"

"That's not what he told me." A part of Hermione enjoyed how angry she was making Isla. "He told me how you threw yourself at him over and over again. How you used to show up naked in his bed or join him uninvited in the shower. He said that you disgusted him and he would never touch you."

Isla's face turned bright red and she began to shake with fury.

"Lucius and I used to laugh about you! He thought you were pathetic."

"You stupid, little, fucking Mudblood!"

Isla slapped Hermione hard across the face. Hermione was expecting the blow, but it hurt nonetheless. Tears began to form in her eyes at the pain. Isla seemed determined to hit Hermione again. She did not even seem to care that the other witch was being held in Antonin's arms.

"I will rip out your lying tongue!"

Isla lunged at Hermione once again. Antonin had fast enough reflexes to pull them both out of her line of fire. As the infuriated woman tried to lash out again, a deep growl emanated from the doorway of the drawing room. Hermione cut her eyes to the door to see Sophie with her hackles up and her teeth bared ready for battle. Isla was oblivious.

"Sophie, no!" Hermione shouted.

The large Scottish deerhound rushed towards Isla, intent on protecting the member of her pack currently in danger. Only feet away from Isla, Sophie jumped off of her back legs to lunge at the angry American. Hermione's scream alerted Isla at the last second to the dog's presence. She pulled out her wand and with one fluid motion, Sophie whimpered before hitting the floor with a thud. She lay in a puddle of blood whining for a minute or so before going completely still.

"NO!" Hermione screamed. She tried to pull herself from Antonin's arms, but he wouldn't allow her. "Sophie!"

Hot tears began falling freely from her eyes and she didn't even attempt to try to stop them. She could not believe that the woman murdered Lucius' dog! How could one person be so cruel? As she sobbed in Antonin's embrace a rather sad and worried Cassius came running in the room. He wasn't interested in any of the humans in the drawing room. His focus and attention was solely on his now deceased sister. Cassius lay down next to the other dog and began to whimper and cry as he pushed her body with his snout. Hermione would give anything to calm the poor dog down. He was her littermate. They had never spent a single day apart from each other. His distress was heartbreaking.

" _Avada kedavra!"_

Green light shot out of Isla's wand to hit the poor, wretched creature crying over his sister's body. An unearthly scream Hermione did not recognize came out of her mouth. A smile crossed Isla's features.

"I've always hated those fucking dogs," Isla laughed.

"Oh my, darling, I think we will get along nicely."

Rabastan crossed the room to place his arm around the laughing witch. Hermione felt the contents of her stomach creeping up. Antonin released her just as she threw up all over the floor. Her reaction only made Isla and Rabastan laugh even harder. When she could no longer bring anything else up from her stomach, Hermione threw herself down on the ground at the two lifeless bodies of the canines she had grown to love so dearly. She couldn't understand how one person could be so callous. A simple _stupefy_ was all that was necessary to prevent Sophie from attacking and there was no reason to harm Cassius! He hadn't done a single thing other than cry and mourn for his beloved sister.

"I'm just sorry that Lucius wasn't here to witness that," Isla said, continuing to chuckle at the carnage.

Hermione sobbed into the fur of the lifeless Cassius. He was such a sweet dog. Always willing to crawl up on the sofa with her despite his large size. She would never understand. Warm hands were placed on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but she hardly registered them at all.

"I would've loved to see his face," Isla laughed.

An almost unnatural fury suddenly came over Hermione. She reached down into the front of her blouse where she could reach the wand hidden in her beaded bag. With the piece of cherry wood held firmly in her hand, Hermione jumped up from the floor in one swift movement, nearly knocking Antonin off of his feet. She pointed her wand at the unsuspecting Isla and thought of the worst hex she could think of.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and into Antonin's. The other two had their wands up, but he was the only one with fast enough reflexes to take her wand away from her in time. Isla and Rabastan were no longer laughing. The situation was getting serious. Hermione quickly looked at the clock, but it still was only half past ten. Lucius wasn't expected back for another hour and a half.

"You little bitch!"

Isla shot an orange stream of energy out of her wand directly at Hermione's chest. The impact of the curse stung heavily and caused the younger witch to fall on the floor and slide into the nearest wall with a thud. She hit her head hard and was certain that she had a concussion. Her vision became blurry. She had the urge to throw up all over again.

"That's enough!" shouted Antonin. "Rabastan, control her."

Hermione closed her eyes as they grew more sensitive to the light in the room. Her head was pounding and she was extremely dizzy. This wasn't her first concussion. She knew the symptoms. Antonin knelt on the ground next to her to examine her closely. He pulled her eyelids open to check her pupils.

"You should be all right, Miss Granger," he said after his initial inspection. "I have a potion that will help with the pain."

She was reluctant to drink any potion that the wizard gave her, but she did not have much of a choice. Antonin lifted up her head in one hand and poured a small amount of potion into her mouth with the other. Moments after she swallowed the disgusting liquid she felt the heaviness in her eyes of impending deep sleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Before she opened her eyes she knew she was somewhere she had never been before. Frightening dreams plagued her sleep so she did not exactly feel rested when her body awoke. She had grown accustomed over the past several months of living in the manor of waking up to the sounds of birds chirping, occasional squawks from Lucius' prized albino peacocks, dogs barking… Hermione swallowed thickly and willed herself not to cry at the thought of the precious dogs that Isla so callously murdered in front of her eyes. She would never forgive the woman and sincerely hoped that one day she would have the opportunity to pay her back in kind.

Without opening her eyes to the reality of where she was located, Hermione continued to lie in bed listening to the unfamiliar sounds around her. She heard birds, but they were not the inland birds she was used to. Coupled with the distinctive sounds of waves crashing into rocks and beach and the sharp salty smell coming in on the breeze through an open window, she was certain she was located somewhere off the coast. The arrangement of sound would be almost soothing if they weren't an indication that she was now far from home.

Several minutes passed with her resolutely keeping her eyes closed to the new surroundings she was in. She used part of that time to take stock in her physicality. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the searing pain from the concussion caused again by the horrible bitch Isla Black-Fawley. Hermione wasn't certain what kind of hex she used to throw her up against the wall of the drawing room, but it certainly had been effective. Her entire body was stiff as if she had remained in the same position for a long period of time, but she was experiencing little to no pain. The worst of the concussion was obviously gone. Any lasting effects were not evident. Whatever potion Antonin gave her before she fell asleep was apparently effective.

Hermione took a deep breath before finally opening her eyes. She found herself in a comfortably sized bedroom. It wasn't overly large like hers at the manor, but it was certainly large enough to hold several large pieces of furniture including the oversized bed she was lying in. Large windows looked out over the garden to the ocean not far away. She didn't even have to sit up in bed to see the ocean it was so close. The wooden beams on the ceiling indicated that the house she was in was at least two hundred years old. It would've been a soothing, relaxing, idyllic vacation spot if not for it being the cottage that Antonin Dolohov was so fond of.

She sat up in bed pulling the bedcovers up to her neck. A quick glance down revealed that she was still wearing the same clothes she had been the night he finally captured her. Was it last night? Two nights ago? She had no idea how long she had been asleep. All Antonin had removed from her body were socks and shoes. At least she didn't have to worry that he had been using her unconscious state to leer at her naked body like some kind of disgusting voyeur. She let the covers fall of her and tried to get out of the very soft and warm bed. Her feet were a little unsteady when they touched the cold floor, but she was otherwise all right. Hermione crossed the room to get a closer look at the view outside of the window. Maybe it would help her figure out exactly where she was being held.

The landscape outside the window was breathtaking. She couldn't deny that Dolohov picked a quiet, serene spot to purchase real estate. The breeze coming through the open window was just a little chilly. Hermione reached up to close the window when she saw a silver bracelet on her left wrist that she hadn't seen before. Using her right hand to pull her left closer to her eyes to examine the unfamiliar piece of jewelry she had an inkling as to what it was. The Umbridge Home used bracelets just like the one she had on to keep their _occupants_ inside the prison. She just found her prison bars.

Hermione scanned the room for her shoes and socks. She wanted to experiment, check to see if the bracelet was as effective as she was afraid it was. Her shoes were quickly found and on her feet. So far Antonin had not made his presence known, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe that he wasn't located somewhere in the cottage with her. The morning sun indicated that it was still quite early. He may be asleep in another room.

There was an exterior door in the room she woke up in. The simple door led to the back garden and then to the wild coast land beyond. Hermione didn't have a wand to unlock the door, but to her surprise, she didn't need one. The door opened quietly without even a hint of a squeak. Remembering how Lucius described the function of the silver bracelets, she hesitantly stepped through the doorway. Nothing happened. She was shocked. Part of her expected to be thrown backwards when she hit the force field or at minimum just gently blocked. Without another moment's hesitation she ran towards the garden gate. The entire garden was surrounded in a picturesque stone wall and the blue gate wasn't even latched closed. Hermione ran full speed ahead to pass through the gate.

She never made it. The moment her foot tried to make it past the blue gate, her wrist began to vibrate and she was gently thrown backwards. She landed on her arse. Not hard enough to hurt anything other than her pride. Still seated on the ground she pulled her knees up to her face, wrapped her arms around her legs and began to sob. She didn't know where she was. She only knew who brought her there and still had no idea what his intentions were. Lucius was in danger. He could be dead already for all she knew. Likely he came home after spending the day taking Luna and his grandson to Liverpool expecting to find her alone. Expected a glass of wine and maybe a long, hot shower to wash the travel off. Instead he found his real goddaughter, the hated Rabastan Lestrange and the poor bodies of his beloved dogs. She could not even imagine what that had been like for him. What it had been like to come home and find out that she had been captured.

She sat on the ground for a long time crying. For yet another time in her life she felt useless. Felt like a burden on others. They would be looking for her now. The Resistance, at least part of it she was sure, would turn their attentions towards finding her. Or… she was frightened to think that maybe this would one situation no one would be able to rescue her from. A fresh batch of tears fell from her eyes. She was terrified and so worried about Lucius that she didn't even have time to stop and think about what life for her was about to become.

A pair of large hands lifted her from the ground again with a tenderness she still did not expect. When she was on her feet again, Antonin removed his hands from her. Without saying a word he placed a cup of hot tea in her hand before turning back towards the cottage.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione watched the enigmatic wizard walk across the garden into the back door of the cottage. He hadn't said a single word to her and she wondered why. She was certain she would never understand Antonin Dolohov. When he disappeared into the confines of the cottage, she examined the hot cup of tea he'd placed in her hands. It wasn't exactly the behavior of a known sadistic murderer. A quick sniff of the beverage did not raise any red flags. After a couple of minutes arguing with herself, she took a sip of the aromatic tea. After all, poisoned tea did not seem to fall within Dolohov's modus operandi.

The tea was delicious and Hermione relished the feel of the hot liquid warming her chest and stomach. She was uncomfortably hungry. Lucius usually kept her on such a strict meal schedule that the absence of any kind of sustenance was making her stomach clench and hurt. After spending almost nine months eating only every two or three days, Lucius had been almost annoying in his fervor to make sure that she was well fed.

Tears stung her eyes once more at the thought of Lucius. She prayed he was all right. Instinctively she knew that he was in a great deal of trouble at the moment, but could not bear to imagine any of the possible details. Surely she would be able to tell he was dead, right? Something in her heart would tell her that there was no hope if he hadn't been able to make it out of his manor alive. She'd known Ron was dead long before she read about it in the Daily Prophet and her feelings for him were almost nothing compared to how she felt about Lucius. In a short period of time, Lucius had become the entirety of her world. She wasn't sure she would make it without him.

Hermione unsuccessfully tried to banish those thoughts. As much as she cared for, no, _loved_ , definitely loved Lucius, she refused to be one of those women that built up their entire existence on one man. She _would_ survive whatever hell Dolohov had planned for her. She owed it to Lucius. He put his life on the line to keep her safe. How could she even contemplate giving up after he made such dire sacrifices?

There were four outside chairs surrounding a large stone fire put in the middle of the garden. Hermione lowered herself into one of the chairs and began to stare at the ocean as she finished her tea. The waves crashing against the shoreline were hypnotic. She was certain she could sit there for hours watching the water go out to sea and violently return to shore. The frequent squawks from seagulls flying around the area were the only other sounds she could hear. A quick survey of the surrounding countryside from her seat showed absolute isolation, no sign of humanity in either direction. Antonin's cottage was located exactly where he said it was: in the quiet countryside where he could be alone.

Except he wasn't alone any longer. Obviously based on the extensive wards, her silver bracelet and the barrier she could not cross, he hadn't intended on being alone for very long. Was all of this for her? He had been searching for her since at least the end of the Battle for Hogwarts. Did he purchase this secluded cottage as a base to perform all of the depraved acts on her she was sure were swirling around in his devious head? Did he pick the cottage with the view because he imagined, hoped that she would one day be here to experience it firsthand?

Hermione cut her eyes towards the open windows on the back of the cottage. She tried to keep her body as still as possible to not make it obvious to any eyes watching her that she was looking. A sheer white curtain panel flapped in the breeze out the window, but beyond that, she couldn't see any other movement. The ocean breeze was chilly this early in the morning and despite the lovely cup of tea her new captor and possessor presented her with, her short sleeves were simply not enough to allow her to remain outside any longer.

She rose carefully from the chair. If she could, she would've spent the rest of her life avoiding returning to the small, but quite charming, cottage that had become her new prison. Hermione crossed the garden in only a matter of a few small steps. With her hand lingering on the doorknob that would take her back inside the strange bedroom she woke up in, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Her heart was threatening to beat itself out of her chest and she could hear how high her blood pressure was in her ears. On the exhale she pushed the door open.

Her senses were immediately assaulted by the familiar, homey smells and sounds of breakfast being prepared in the next room. The sizzle of bacon made her stomach growl in anticipation. Hermione tried to ignore her primal desire but it was no use. A single closed door separated her from the Death Eater she'd had nightmares about since he slashed her with purple fire in the Department of Mysteries. She came close to dying because of the bastard. The closer she walked towards it, the heavier her breathing and the faster her pulse became.

Antonin briefly looked up from the skillet he was standing over when Hermione finally worked up enough of her Gryffindor courage to open the door. With only the tersest of nods of acknowledgment in her direction at the arrival, his eyes fell back down to the task at hand. She placed her empty teacup on the counter near the stove. Still without saying a word to the young woman, Dolohov summoned the teapot to refill her cup.

"Thank you," Hermione said, the sound of voice even in almost a whisper sounded loud and out of place in the quiet cottage.

Antonin nodded once in response. He gestured towards the small table in the kitchen already set with two place settings. Hermione walked the four or five steps required to cover the entire length of the room to take a seat. She sipped her tea for no other reason than to keep her hands and mouth occupied. Antonin used his wand to fill both of their plates with the bacon, eggs, and friend potatoes he cooked. When he took the seat across from Hermione, she thought how strange it was to be served breakfast by a man she was certain wanted to hurt and possibly murder her. He tucked in immediately and Hermione followed soon after.

Her stomach was grateful for the sustenance and the silence that pervaded the meal. She kept her eyes focused on her plate as much as she could, but couldn't help herself from sneaking a few glances at her _host_ across the table. Antonin Dolohov had impeccable table manners. Though he would never be half as elegant as Lucius was, it was apparent that he was raised to be polite and respectful of his eating companions. Hermione briefly wondered what his mother had been like. Quickly forcing that line of thinking to end, she returned her complete attention back to her meal.

He did not say a word to her for the entire meal. It was a bit disconcerting, but a part of her was glad that she didn't have to engage in mindless banter or be informed of his dastardly plans for her over toast. Dolohov seemed content to keep his own eyes focused on his plate. If he stole quick glances of the woman across from him, he did so when she was unaware. He was a complete and total mystery. She longed to throw her eggs at his face, jump on the table, kick him squarely in the head and demand to know what he was going to do with her. What kind of plans had he been making? She would never be able to forget the night she hid in the concealed staircase and heard him answer Lucius' question on what he was planning to do with his war prize when he finally caught her. _"I have plans."_ Never any indication of _what_ kind of plans however. She was as ignorant as it was possible to be.

Was he planning on torturing her like he had been reported to do so long ago in the past? He was locked up in Azkaban with a life sentence because of his penchant for brutalizing Muggles and other wizards and witches who didn't support Voldemort in all manner of inventive ways. Maybe he was planning on torturing her and then murdering her in some brutal fashion in retribution for her role in helping Harry destroy almost all of the horcruxes? He slaughtered Molly Weasley's brothers Gideon and Fabian Prewett with four other Death Eaters. Did he have something like that in mind for her? Or was it possibly worse? Was he planning on creating his own private Umbridge Home for Young Ladies with only one occupant? Was he planning on raping her repeatedly? Using her as some sort of sex slave? Maybe even some kind of brood mare? Forced to submit to his no doubt abnormal sexual proclivities and then bear his children?

She raised her eyes from her plate to examine the man across from her. At that point she wasn't too worried about him realizing she was staring. He had been to the manor countless times to visit and she had always watched him out of the corner of her eyes when possible. Paid close attention to how his dark brown eyes sought out the flickering flames of the fireplace. Always watching the fire with an intensity behind his eyes that made her shiver with what must have been fright. His pale skin seemed even paler in the early light of day than it normally did in the low lights of the drawing room. Dark circles under his eyes screamed that this was a man who had not known good rest in several days at least. Hermione had only ever seen him clean shaven the night of the horrid Lestrange reception celebrating the deaths of so many of her loved ones. Normally, and that morning was no exception, he kept a healthy growth of dark brown facial hair just begging to be shaved off. She assumed that spending so many years in Azkaban made him less worried about the scruffiness of his face like so many other men. No doubt there had been entire years where no one saw his face or offered him a razor.

Antonin looked up from his plate for just a moment and caught Hermione staring at him. He did not smile or leer or make any kind of simple human acknowledgment of the fact. Simply returned his gaze to his plate. Hermione could not help but remember a breakfast several months earlier that was similar to the one she was having at that moment. Awkward, frightened, exhausted and starved she hardly had the strength to make it through the first meal at Malfoy Manor, even with Kingsley seated at her side. That January morning she wished she could have been just about anywhere else in the entire world than the kitchen of one of the wizards she had always been afraid of. Even before she was tortured in Lucius' home she had been scared of him. She still had trouble at times separating the man she frequently snuggled up in bed or on the study sofa with and the fearsome Death Eater chasing her through the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries. Somehow she doubted she would ever have to worry about reconciling her image of Antonin Dolohov as the bastard who tried to kill her with a man she was comfortable living with.

After several more minutes, Antonin dropped his fork with a clang on his empty plate. He waved his wand to banish their dirty dishes to the sink a few feet away from the table. Another flick and the washing up from breakfast began. Hermione always struggled with the part of her brain that wanted to clean up the Muggle way like her mother always asked her to do when she was a child. Sometimes she forgot to use magic. It was another one of those inconsistencies that crept up in her life due to being born a Muggle. Lucius assured her that given time she would integrate completely into their world. It just took time to break the old habits and mindsets. She teased him when he reminded her of renewing her mind and habits about how he had been stuck in his own pureblood supremacy mindset for over forty years. She lost herself in thoughts of her blond wizard.

"I assume you learned this morning that there is no way to leave the garden," Antonin said, surprising Hermione enough to jump a little in her chair.

She eyed the silver bracelet on her wrist and wished desperately she had her wand. There had to be some way that she could remove the damned piece of silver! She determined that when he was not looking she would examine the bracelet further for weaknesses she could exploit. Nothing, not even in the world of magic, was perfect.

"Yes," she replied.

"There are wards protecting this cottage and the limited grounds within the stone wall. Your bracelet will not allow you to pass the barrier of the front or the back gates. You are free, of course, to spend as much time in the garden as you wish."

"Thanks. I'm sure it will be great to stretch my legs in the four square feet of space located in the walls," she answered in a biting, sarcastic tone that even Professor Snape would have been proud to hear.

"There will be times that I am called away…"

He paused as if he was hesitant to illuminate further, but there was no need. Hermione understood that he would be leaving her alone when he was forced to answer the summons of his master.

"And I will be forced to leave you here on your own," he continued. "I must warn you that there is no point in attempting escape. It will not happen. I am very skilled in the enchantments that I've placed around the cottage and the grounds. You will not escape. You will not be able to cross the barrier and you will not able to bring the wards down on your own."

Hermione rose quickly from the table. She didn't want to be seated across from this man for another moment.

"You should also be aware, Miss Granger, that the more you try to cross the barrier, the more painful the repercussions will become."

Just like the damned bark collar her neighbor put on its dog when she was younger. The more the dog barked, the more painful the shock to its neck. She could almost laugh at the comparison between herself and the pitiful dachshund next door to her parents' former home… Almost laugh if it wasn't so damned depressing.

"I hope that there will come a day when these restrictions will become unnecessary," he continued. She had never heard him say so many words at one time in their entire acquaintance. "Perhaps soon there will come a day when you will remain here of your own volition."

"Not bloody likely!" She screamed. As if there would _ever_ be a circumstance where she would choose to stay there. She would almost rather die first.

"You are still recovering, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should calm yourself down before you injure yourself further."

She did not appreciate his tone. He almost sounded as if he _cared_ , but that was completely impossible. Cared only that his precious war prize didn't get dented or broken before he had a chance to properly play with it! She stormed out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. Hermione slammed the door to the bedroom with the same amount of fury and passion that she used to slam the door to her bedroom as a teenager.

"I would suggest that you get some more rest," Antonin said from the doorway. Somehow he managed to open the door without her being aware of it. No doubt her stomping around the room like a three year old prevented the sound of the door opening from reaching her ears.

"Stop telling me what to do!" She screamed again.

"It was only a suggestion."

Hermione crossed the room to stand by the window overlooking the back garden again. Antonin remained on the other side of the bedroom and made no attempt to follow her. Thank goodness for small favors. Hermione was certain she would be willing to put her life in her hands and try to throttle the man if he approached her again.

"You will find some clean clothing in the dresser and the bath is just through that door,"  
he announced, pointing to a simple door near him. "Perhaps after a hot bath and a long nap you will feel more like yourself again."

Antonin closed the door behind him leaving Hermione blessedly alone again. She hated to admit that anything he said was correct, but she couldn't deny that a hot bath and a nap sounded heavenly. Her head was feeling much better than it had been whatever night it was that Isla Black-Fawley tried to kill her. She was certain that she was almost fully recovered from what was either the third or the fourth concussion of her life.

Hermione pulled open the middle drawer to the large dresser with a rage she couldn't calm. The heavy drawer almost came out of the dresser completely except she caught it in time. She opened each of the drawers one right after the other searching for clothing that would be suitable for her to wear after a bath. Although she should have expected it considering how thorough the wards around the property were, the dresser was a perfect combination of masculine clothing that she was certain fit Dolohov and feminine clothing that she knew were for her use. It was almost creepy how complete the wardrobe was. Everything from socks and knickers to pajamas and casual clothing filled the drawers, sometimes lying right next to their masculine counterparts. She found the fact that the clothes, including the several brassieres she found in the top drawer, were exactly her size a little unnerving. How could he have possibly paid close enough attention to her in the limited times that she had been in his presence to know exactly what size undergarments she wore? When she opened the closet next to the dresser she was again surprised to see an entire row of wizard's robes hanging next to an entire row of witch's robes in her exact size.

"Madam Malkin's," she reminded herself with a mirthless laugh. Madam Malkin kept as neutral a stance in the war as possible. A smart businesswoman knows that the Light and the Dark both need to be clothed. Her measurements were no doubt on file in the store. It would not have been difficult for Antonin to simply order an entire wardrobe for her based on the store's history of her account. Indeed as she began to check the tags of all of the hanging garments she found Madam Malkin's distinct tag on each piece.

Selecting the most demure, full-coverage set of pajamas that she could find in the dresser, Hermione headed into the bathroom. She was mildly surprised by the well-appointed room. There was a large shower with multiple shower heads that she was sure would feel amazing on tired, sore muscles. The focal point of the entire room was the large, antique claw foot tub. She could hardly wait to soak in the heat of the tub. It only took a couple of minutes for the tub to fill up with hot water and the calming lavender bubble bath she found on the counter. Feeling very self-conscious and worried that the large mirrors over both of the separate vanities were charmed to allow someone to stand behind them and see inside the bathroom, Hermione dropped her clothing on the bathroom floor as quickly as she could and jumped under the bubbles.

It took her several minutes of lying underneath the surface of the bubble covered water before she finally found herself beginning to relax. She closed her eyes and took deep calming breaths. The lavender was already working its own special kind of magic. Her eyes began to droop as the tension in her muscles began to subside. She was resting her head on the back of the tub, breathing deeply and trying to forget she was in Antonin Dolohov's cottage long enough to calm down. At some point her eyes became too heavy to keep open. She slipped her head under the water to wet her hair and lingered. Part of her wondered what it would be like to drown in a bathtub. Would Dolohov even care what happened to her? Or would he just be thankful that the messy work was out of the way? Her thoughts continued to wander as she held her breath.

A violent vibration of her silver bracelet surprised her. Immediately she felt a strong, invisible force pull her head out of the water, splashing gallons over the side of the tub. The shock of being removed from the water so quickly caused her to swallow at least a mouthful of the bubbly, soapy water. She sat up in the tub coughing and struggling to catch her breath. Her eyes and throat were stinging with the effects of the soap. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she opened her eyes to see a folded, fluffy white towel in front of her face.

"What are you doing in here?" she screamed, pulling the towel out of Antonin's hands to cover herself with. The fact that the towel was now completely soaking wet and half under the water did not even occur to her.

"Your bracelet has been charmed to prevent any form of self-harm," he explained as he reached for a dry towel.

"Self-harm? So I can't even kill myself if I wanted to?"

"Do you want to kill yourself?"

Of course she didn't. She wanted to escape and find Lucius. There was no way to accomplish either of those tasks if she was dead. Besides, suicide always seemed like the easy way out. She was afraid of what her future held, but she wasn't going to try to bypass it simply because it would likely be very difficult.

"No," she whispered. "I was getting my hair wet. I must have lingered under the water too long."

Antonin excused himself from the room after her explanation. _At least he doesn't seem too interested in staying around to watch me bathe_ , she thought. Hermione pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub and waited until the water drained completely and her skin was cold to stand up and dry herself off with the second offered towel. Just as she had when she got in the tub, she wasted no time in drying off and getting dressed again in the new pajamas. Her dirty clothes were nowhere to be found. She assumed that her captor must have banished them to wherever he kept the soiled laundry when she wasn't looking.

Slipping into the oversized bed with clean pajamas and a clean body would have been heavenly if she wasn't in hell. Even after a relaxing bath and the clear evidence that at least for now Dolohov wasn't interested in hurting her, wasn't enough to relax her enough to slip into untroubled sleep. When she finally managed to doze off long enough to constitute an actual nap, her mind was restless with disturbing dreams and images of an injured or dead Lucius.

A gentle hand placed on her shoulder shocked her into reality. Hermione sat up in bed so rapidly that she almost fell off the soft mattress. Dolohov was there to keep her from tumbling to the floor. He stood at the side of the bed she was lying on and deftly pushed her flailing body back onto the bed.

"I have been summoned," he explained. "I am not sure when I will return. Please make yourself comfortable…"

 _Not bloody likely!_

"… and feel free to make yourself some food if you get hungry. I may be back late."

Antonin didn't say anything else before exiting the bedroom. Hermione heard the front door close and then the characteristic crack of Apparition from the front yard. She wasted no time in getting out of the bed once she knew he was gone. As of yet she wasn't anxious to test the barrier preventing her from leaving the grounds, but she was curious to check out the rest of the cottage while the master of the house was absent.

She slipped her bare feet into a pair of warm slippers that had been placed, no doubt by Antonin, by the side of the bed. Thankful for warmth on the cold wood floors, she left the bedroom and headed into the rest of the cottage. There really wasn't much to the place at all. The kitchen was tiny with really only a stove and oven combo, a large sink and a tiny refrigerator. Based on the absolute silence of the appliance, she was certain the fridge ran on magic and not conventional electricity. There were a few cabinets, but most of the cooking utensils and crockery were piled up on a counter in the corner.

The living room was large enough to hold an enormous, puffy sofa that Hermione could imagine taking fabulous naps on. It almost beckoned her to sit on it, but she was not going to be distracted so easily so early in her task. The rest of the living room was made up of an exceptionally large fireplace that she was certain a grown man could floo in and out of, two matching comfortable looking armchairs and several large bookcases almost groaning with the weight of dozens and dozens of heavy books. Hermione stopped at the bookcases to linger over the titles. At least if she was going to be stuck there for a while she would have some reading material.

There was a small staircase in the living room that led to the second floor. She wasn't very tall but had to duck to keep from hitting her head on the low ceiling as she climbed up. No doubt a man as tall as Antonin had to be very careful going up and down the stairs to prevent head injuries. The upstairs was one room. At present there didn't appear to be much use for the space other than storage. Boxes and trunks of varying sizes lined the walls. She was tempted to start looking through them. Only the knowledge that this was the home of a very Dark wizard kept her from doing just that. There was no telling what she might find inside the boxes once she started digging.

After the perusal of the upstairs that took less than a couple of minutes, Hermione headed back down the narrow staircase. The only unexplored part of the cottage was a single door almost hidden next to the staircase on the ground floor. She struggled with opening it. Obviously the door was not opened very often. After several minutes of pushing and pulling on the wooden door, she managed to pry it open. Another narrow staircase led down into the basement of the cottage. She didn't have a torch or a wand to light the way to the lowest part of the house, but after a few steps down she found she didn't really need either. There were two windows near the ceiling that flooded the room with light.

She wasn't exactly sure what to expect from exploring the basement of a man like Dolohov. Part of her imagined a dark, dank torture chamber or at the very least a completely bare room with nothing but manacles like she experienced in Lucius' basement. What she found was a bit surprising to her. The basement was set up as a sumptuous study. No doubt this was where Dolohov anticipated spending most of his time. A potions brewing station was set up in the corner with shelves upon shelves of various potion ingredients. There was a large opulent desk completely covered in books that had not yet made it onto any of the numerous bookshelves scattered around the room. Another comfortable looking sofa in front of a small fireplace dominated another section of the room. It was obvious that Dolohov was still in the process of settling into his sanctuary, but there was not a single thing about the room that made Hermione uncomfortable as she expected it to. In fact, she could see the appeal in curling up in this room with a good book much like she did in Lucius' own study.

Feeling almost like an intruder in the man's private space, Hermione climbed back up the basement stairs to the main part of the cottage. Her tour of her new _home_ hadn't even taken twenty full minutes. Feeling her stomach begin to churn and the first growl escape, she crossed to the kitchen to see what kind of food he had stashed in the house. While she was making herself a sandwich a key point about the house that she had not yet considered stuck out to her. There was only one bedroom. Only a single bed in the entire cottage.

"He doesn't _seriously_ expect me to share a bed with him, does he?" she asked herself aloud. That was simply not going to happen. There were two very comfortable looking sofas that she would sleep on before she allowed him to drag her into bed with him. Hermione finished her sandwich and wondered what she could do to kill time waiting for whatever fate Antonin Dolohov had in mind for her. She was certain that the waiting would be worse than the actual plans he had.

Settling down with a large volume on Arithmancy that would either fascinate her enough to spend several hours engrossed within its pages or boring enough to send her into a welcome coma, Hermione made herself comfortable on the huge sofa in the living room. The day was mostly gone thanks to her nap earlier, but she still had hours to fill. She opened the cover of the book and began to read.

The book was obviously complete rubbish because several hours later Hermione woke up suddenly after hearing a loud noise outside the front door. She sat up and dropped the large Arithmancy tome on the floor with a crash. The sun had already gone down and the room was completely dark when the door opened. Antonin entered dressed in familiar black robes sans mask. With a quick flick of his wand the fireplace roared into action and several lamps lit themselves.

Hermione wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something to the wizard. A cursory glance over his agitated features prompted her to keep her mouth shut. Antonin said nothing to her as he passed by her to the side table nearest the fireplace. He poured himself a liberal glass of what she assumed to be fire whiskey before filling a second glass and thrusting it into her hands. She ordinarily would say 'no' to the offer of anything stronger than a glass of wine, but she was not able to argue with this man.

Whatever happened must have been serious because she had only seen him this upset the night she ran away from him in Inverness. He ripped his outer robes off and flung them on the back of one of the armchairs. After he filled his glass a second and then a third time, he turned around to seat himself next to Hermione on the sofa. Even though she tensed up at the initial realization that he was only seated mere inches from her side, Hermione did not flinch or move away. She sipped her whiskey and waited for Dolohov to speak.

"You will be pleased to hear that your _lover_ escaped from his manor without any lasting harm," Antonin spat out after only a couple of minutes of silence between the two.

Hermione did not respond. She knew it wasn't necessary. Inside, however, she was thrilled that Lucius was safe for the time being. She had been so worried since waking up. Her face remained impassive, however. It would not benefit her to seem too excited at the news.

"Rabastan and that damned witch were not able to stop him when he returned home after we left," he continued. "He's probably off with the rebels right now aiding them openly instead of quietly as he has been for months apparently. That damned Rabastan can't be trusted to do anything correctly! How an incompetent wizard such as him hasn't been brutally wiped off the face of the earth by now is beyond me."

He stopped his ranting only long enough to take a couple more sips from his glass. Hermione was astonished to see this side of the usually reticent man. Was it the hard alcohol or only the adrenaline from returning from a summons? She couldn't be sure. Maybe it was simply being alone with her that allowed him to open up more than he usually would.

"Maybe I'll treat us both one day and do the job myself. You'd like that, I'm sure."

Hermione nodded once and took another sip. Of course she would love to see Rabastan Lestrange removed from the world in a very violent and brutal way. She would even accept it as a token of affection from Antonin Dolohov if that was what he chose to do.

"I'm sure you are pleased to hear that, for now at least, Lucius is safe."

Antonin rose from the sofa in one swift motion. He emptied the glass and dropped it carelessly on the table as he walked by. He began to shrug the rest of his clothes off as he headed towards the bedroom. When Hermione heard the sound of the shower running, she reached down to pick the forgotten book off of the floor, thankful that she knew she would at least have a few minutes to herself again to think over what he just announced.

A now familiar hand shook Hermione awake gently. She hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep again. The fire was almost completely burnt out in the fireplace and the clock on the wall was showing it be after one. Hermione sat up slowly to prevent dropping the book she was reading for a second time that night on the floor.

"Are you going to come to bed?" Antonin asked, his voice calm.

Hermione felt her stomach twist and turn into knots. She turned her eyes away from the wizard leaning over the back of the couch.

"No, I think I will just sleep out here."

"Don't be silly. This sofa is good for naps, but anything longer than a couple of hours and you will wake up with a painful crick in your neck."

"No. I'm fine right here."

Antonin walked around from the back of the sofa. He placed one arm under Hermione's legs and the other around her waist. In one single movement he had her in his arms like she was nothing more than a small child. As he carried her towards the bedroom, the panic of what she knew was about to happen began to sink in. She started screaming and crying. Her arms shot out to hit the man who held her with enough force that he dropped her body hard on the wood floors. Once they both recovered from the shock, Hermione jumped up and tried to run away from him. His arms caught her around the waist.

"What is the matter with you?" He demanded in a much sterner voice from earlier.

She didn't want to cry in front of him. It was a sure sign of weakness on her part. Too bad her mind couldn't communicate that with the rest of her body. When her sobs grew louder, Antonin loosened his grip on her waist. He carefully turned her around to look her in the eyes. His right hand landed softly on the back of her neck. She stiffened further at the contact.

"Hermione, why are you crying?" His voice was much gentler than only moments before.

She still couldn't answer. Realization dawned on Antonin immediately.

"Hermione, I've never raped a woman in my entire life and I'm certainly not going to start tonight."

Shocked at his admission, Hermione's brown eyes met his brown eyes.

"Then why did you…" She couldn't even finish her thought out of complete mortification.

"I wasn't lying when I said that couch is awful for anything longer than a few hours. There's only one bed, but it's large and I promise to stay on my own side."

"What do you want with me?" She demanded, surprised by her own boldness.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you want with me? What are your plans? Why am I here? Why did you ask for me?"

Antonin exhaled a deep breath. His right hand was still on Hermione's neck. Several beats passed before he finally answered her question.

"I want to keep you safe, Hermione. That's all I've ever wanted."

Before Hermione could utter a single word in response, she was cut off by his warm and hungry lips crashing down to meet hers.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The first thought that ran through Hermione's mind when Antonin Dolohov kissed her was that his beard was rather scratchy and should be shaved. With the exception of the tiniest hint of morning stubble on Lucius' face first thing in the morning, she had never really kissed anyone with large amounts of facial hair. Ron couldn't grow even a patchy moustache to save his own life and her few short kisses with Viktor Krum didn't exactly bring her face into a lot of contact with the ridiculous looking goatee he sported during his last year at Durmstrang. It was an odd, unnerving feeling to have so much coarse hair brush up against her soft, sensitive skin. Antonin tickled her nose to the point she was sure she would sneeze on him any moment.

The second thought she had was that he kissed like a man possessed. Like a man who knows he is about to die and wants to fulfill every moment to its finest potential. In short, his kiss made her weak in the knees. Beyond the base description of being "shocked" by his behavior she was positively befuddled. He dropped his right hand from the back of her neck to join his left at the small of her back, gently, urgently pulling her body closer to his. Hermione could no longer stand on her own she feared. She fisted the light, wrinkled cotton shirt he'd been sleeping in with both hands. Her involuntary reaction only spurred him on further.

Hermione's third thought was that she couldn't believe how soft his lips were. Something in her mind, in her subconscious, believed that as an evil, murderous Death Eater every part of his body must be hard, angled and designed to create maximum pain. Antonin's kiss could certainly be described as fierce, but there was nothing but pleasure waving over her body at the sensations he was creating within her with the press of his deceptively soft lips and tiniest flicking of his tongue. He still tasted faintly of mint toothpaste, nothing like the ashes and sulfur she'd expected.

Several minutes passed of them standing in his living room, clinging to each other, exploring each other's mouths before the fourth thought popped into her head. Antonin Dolohov kissed nothing like Lucius Malfoy. It was the sudden realization that the wizard she was holding on to was not the wizard she desired before she was able to break the contact. She released her hold on his shirt before pulling her lips away from his. Suddenly bereft of the object of his affection or obsession depending on how one looked at it, Antonin stared down at the woman in confused amazement. His brown eyes darkened to almost completely black spheres. He blinked once, twice, three times before regaining his lost composure.

Hermione had no clue what to say to the man staring down at her. He didn't seem to know the rights words either. After several awkward moments of the tall man peering down at her in the almost complete darkness of the living room, Antonin turned on his heel and rushed towards the bedroom. Hermione, not wanting a repeat of earlier, followed close behind. When she pushed the door open to the bedroom, she caught a glimpse of Antonin exiting through the exterior door. She climbed into the oversized bed and snuggled down into the side furthest away from the back door.

Sleep was almost impossible to find that night. When Hermione wasn't replaying the most unexpected kiss of her entire life in her head, she was thinking about Antonin's words about wanting to keep her safe. Of always wanting to keep her safe. Then her thoughts would wander to worrying about Lucius and wishing she could find him again. At times she found breathing was difficult when she thought of him. She knew he was a very powerful and highly skilled wizard with vast amounts of experience saving his own arse, but she was worried nonetheless. He'd made some very serious enemies in the past few days who were every bit as capable of defending themselves and causing her love pain.

And her thoughts were also plagued with thoughts of Antonin Dolohov. Where did he go? What was he doing? He left quickly and still clad in his pajamas so Hermione assumed he hadn't gone too far. Of course she didn't really know the man. Making assumptions could be dangerous. She was still awake and still thinking of him later when the back door finally opened.

Hermione pretended she was asleep. It gave her a little more freedom to view this man without his knowledge if he assumed she was unconscious. Antonin crossed the bedroom to the dresser. Carefully opening a drawer to prevent any sound, no doubt in an attempt to not wake his prisoner, Antonin removed clothing. Hermione could not tell what he took out of the large dresser. She hoped he would be dressing to leave again. The wizard stood still in front of the dresser for a moment before stripping every piece of clothing he had off of his body.

Hermione closed her eyes quickly, but not before she was able to see the bright moonlight filtering in through the sheer window coverings illuminate Dolohov's lean, muscular and very naked form. Either he thought she was asleep or he truly wasn't shy in the least. She kept her eyes closed shut until she heard the click of the bathroom door and then the running of the shower yet again that night. After just a few short minutes, Antonin shut off the water and emerged from the room fully clothed once more. He carefully settled down in the bed next to her, trying not to shake the bed too much. _How very unlike Lucius_ , she thought. Some nights she could've sworn that Lucius got a running start before diving into their bed based on the heavy amount of jostling required for him to get comfortable. Antonin obviously did not want to disturb her.

The sharp smell of saltwater hit Hermione in the nose when Antonin settled his head on his pillow. At least the mystery of where he had gone when he stormed out of the cottage was solved. How anyone could rush off in the middle of the night for a swim in the freezing cold ocean was beyond Hermione. She enjoyed swimming immensely, but she certainly didn't wish to freeze her bits off to do so. Hermione opened her eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of the man lying only inches away from her. She wasn't the only one anxious to take a look at their bed mate. Brown eyes met brown eyes once more that night.

"I am very sorry that I frightened you earlier," he whispered to the darkness.

"It's all right," she replied even though nothing was all right in her life at all. Certainly not the bizarre position she found herself in where she was actually engaged in pillow talk with Antonin Dolohov.

"I should've considered what this must be like for you. I shouldn't have simply grabbed you like that."

"No, you really shouldn't have."

They fell silent but they both were aware of the other still being awake. Hermione had a million questions for the man and knew this would be as good an opportunity as any to start asking. Where to start, however, was beyond her. They lay there in complete silence, save for their regulated breathing for several more minutes. Finally, Hermione couldn't stand the quiet anymore and blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"Why would you go swimming in the middle of the night in the freezing ocean? Do you do that a lot?"

Antonin chuckled and Hermione was reminded of the two trips they'd made together down into Lucius' wine cellar. Both times she'd started out terrified to be alone with the man and then ended up actually somewhat enjoying his company. Life was not made up simply of black and white. She was learning this lesson over and over again it seemed.

"No, I don't do that very often," he answered. "Azkaban might have been difficult for me, but I haven't completely lost my mind yet."

Hermione couldn't help herself. She laughed and learned that laughing in bed with Antonin Dolohov was even weirder than just talking in bed with Antonin Dolohov.

"I needed to clear my head," he continued. "Clear my head and I thought the cold water…"

If the lights were brighter in the room, Hermione could've sworn she was seeing him blush. He didn't finish out his sentence. There wasn't a need. She understood. A cold dip in the ocean certainly would have the same effect as a cold shower. Antonin cleared his throat before falling silent again.

"Your cottage is lovely," Hermione said, desperate for something to banish the awkwardness that crept up between them. "I understand your desire to move here. It's peaceful."

"Thank you. I'm pleased you like it."

Hermione closed her eyes with all intention of finally getting some sleep, but there was a nagging in the back of her head that she couldn't quite ignore. She knew she couldn't ask every question she had right then and expect a satisfying answer. There were enough that it might take days. She's always hated the cliché "curiosity killed the cat" because she could easily be considered the cat. She had a thirst for knowledge and an inquisitiveness that could not be satisfied.

"What did you mean earlier?"

She felt rather than saw Antonin roll over to face her. The tiny amount of moonlight still left in the room lit him enough that Hermione could see him rest his right elbow up on the mattress, his head cupped by his hand. His full attention was hers.

"Earlier?" he asked. "When?"

"When we were in the other room… right before you kissed me."

Her courage was waning. Thoughts of their passionate embrace in the main room of the house made her cheeks burn. She hoped that he could not see the effect he was having on her.

"You said that you wanted me so you could keep me safe."

"Yes."

"Well, what did you mean by that?"

"I would think the meaning was obvious."

She knew by instinct that he wasn't trying to be difficult on purpose. Antonin was legitimate in not understanding why she was confused but his earlier proclamation.

"The night we met, or rather the night that you met who you thought was Isla Black-Fawley, I was hiding in the staircase after Lucius told me to go to bed," she said. "I heard Rabastan tell Lucius that you were allowed to make a request of You-Know-Who after the final battle."

"Yes, I was. The Dark Lord was pleased that I killed the werewolf…"

Hermione's stomach clenched at the casual mention of Remus Lupin's murder at the hands of the man next to her. The memories of that day were still fresh at times.

"… and that I beat Filius Flitwick in another duel. He said that I proved my loyalty and bravery and would grant me a request. I asked him to allow me to capture you safely. He laughed at what he thought was an unusual request but granted it nonetheless."

"That's why all of the broadsheets and newspapers said that I was to be captured alive?"

"Yes, it was at the Dark Lord's request on my behalf that nothing happen to you."

Hermione exhaled a deep breath she had not realized until that moment she had been holding. The more questions were answered the more she had questions develop that she hadn't thought about earlier. She wished she had some parchment to make a detailed list of what she wanted to ask this man. In the back of her mind she filed away the thought that first thing in the morning she would find something to write with and on down in Antonin's study and map out any additional queries she might have.

"Why? Why did you want me?"

It was Antonin's turn to exhale deeply. He took a moment to answer her question. No doubt his mind was working as hard as Hermione's.

"Do you know what happens to prisoners of war when the _darker_ side wins?"

"I've read a little bit about it," she answered knowing that her answer was inadequate at best.

"Reading about it in a book safely away from the ruins of the battlefield is _nothing_ compared to the reality, my _golubushka_." His tone was kind even if his words were harsh. "A madness takes over men when they are in the presence of blood and destruction. You were spared the worst of it when the giant took you away."

"You saw that?"

"It was hard to miss a beautiful woman being saved by a sixteen foot giant," he replied with a quiet laugh. "We were all so stunned by his actions that everyone stopped what they were doing to simply watch him run out of the castle with you in his grasp. He was already out on the grounds before the first of us even thought to try to stop him."

She didn't want to know, but she _had_ to know. There were still so many questions that haunted her from that day.

"What happened after he saved me?" she asked, her voice hardly above a murmur.

"Murder. Retribution. Rape. Vengeance."

Tears fell out of Hermione's eyes, but she didn't even move to wipe them away.

"Once everyone, regardless of which side they were fighting on, realized that the Potter boy was dead and they watched the giant save his lady, chaos broke out. There were several on your side that thought they could continue to fight. They tried. They were brave even in their foolishness. A couple of the young wizards from the group you called "Dumbledore's Army" tried to revenge your fallen friend. One was a Weasley but I don't know who the other one was. They tried to carry on, but the Dark Lord struck them down personally."

"Ron and Anthony," she said quietly to herself. She knew one was Ron for certain and the only other DA member to die after Harry did was Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. Hermione heard only the most basic details from Lucius of how Ron was killed. He and Anthony tried to kill some of the Death Eaters still standing. Voldemort called for them to cease their actions and when they refused he shot them both down with the Killing Curse.

"Naturally once the two rash boys were killed the rest of your side was rather subdued. There is always a calm immediately following a battle. It's almost eerie. If you had no experience in battle you might assume that the worst was over when the battle ends. You would be wrong of course. The worst actions, the most depraved and brutal, occur when the victors finally realize they have succeeded. There is a primal urge to make your enemies pay when you have the upper hand."

She wished she hadn't opened up this line of discussion. The late hour didn't matter even though she was sure if she fell asleep that moment she would be able to stay asleep for days. Did she need to hear the details of what her loved ones experienced? What she almost had to experience for herself?

"The executions began soon after the Weasley boy and the other one were killed. Several of your top fighters were brought before the Dark Lord to pay for their rebellion. The oafish half giant Hagrid was killed by the Dark Lord. Partly for allowing his brother to take you away and partly because he knew that there would be no loyalty from him. Something in their past I heard."

"You Know Who was the reason why Hagrid was expelled in his third year. He lied and said that the acromantula Hagrid was raising was what killed Moaning Myrtle in the girls' bathroom when it was really his basilisk that he was controlling the Chamber of Secrets."

"All the more reason to understand why the Dark Lord wanted him gone. After Hagrid he brought the Weasley woman forward to kill in retribution for her murdering Bellatrix. Seems the only one upset with old Bella being killed was the Dark Lord himself. Personally, that bitch deserved worse than she got."

For once they were able to agree on something.

"And then I'm sure that Lucius told you all about what happened with his wife after that."

"Yes." And she didn't want to hear about it again.

"While all of this was going on, there was still fighting. Low level, nothing too serious. We were instructed to round up all of the stragglers, immobilize those that wanted to continue to fight. I wasn't lying to you earlier when I told you that I have never raped a woman. I can't speak for my associates, however. Most of those poor girls who eventually ended up in the Umbridge Home experienced their first assault on the floor or against the walls of the Great Hall."

Hermione choked down a sob. She wasn't surprised by the revelation. In fact, she was fairly certain that there were a great many sexual assaults that day that no one ever mentioned. It was a part of war, Wizards and Muggles alike. As much as the idealistic youth wanted to believe and imagine that war was about glorious battlefields and acts of courage and valor, the brutal truth was much worse. War spilled over into all aspects of life. Women had been paying for the failures of their men in combat with their ravaged bodies since time began.

"I am thankful that you were not there to experience it firsthand."

Antonin reached across the bed to wipe one of Hermione's tears off of her cheeks with his left hand. She tensed at the contact, but didn't push him away. He softly rubbed his thumb across her jawbone before dropping his hand back to his side.

"I want to continue to keep you safe."

"Why? Why me?"

"Do you remember the first time I saw you?"

Hermione almost snorted. How could she forget that day?

"Yeah, I remember the night you almost killed me."

"I won't insult you with a disingenuous apology," he replied. "While I would not repeat the same actions today, that night I behaved exactly how I was expected. You impressed me. I assumed, like all of the others, your precious Lucius included, that six teenagers would be no match for us. Of course, if the wizard Dumbledore and the other members of the Order hadn't shown up you all would have been dead that evening."

Hermione was unable to suppress a shudder at the thought. He was right, of course. They were all almost killed because of Harry's foolish plan. It was a miracle that the only fatality that evening was Sirius. It could've easily been much, much worse.

"You were just a tiny thing," Antonin continued. "But you were fierce. Determined. When you placed the Silencing spell on me, I was more than a little impressed. No one had been able to silence me since my mum when I was a child. If you hadn't silenced me, the full effect of my curse would have killed you."

"You caused enough damage as it was."

Her mind swept back in time to the end of her fifth year when she was stuck in the hospital ward of Hogwarts. At least ten potions had to be taken every day just to keep her alive. She would always carry scars from the purple fire that he shot at her with his wand. It was a miracle that she survived his curse.

"I thought about you when I was in Azkaban."

She remembered Lucius making the comment that Antonin had been dreaming about her since he was locked up in Azkaban the second time on the night she was almost caught by Antonin and Albert Runcorn. It was more than a little disconcerting to know that in the darkness of his cell his thoughts were consumed with thoughts of her.

"You left quite an impression on me, Hermione. I assumed I would never see you again. What was the harm in thinking about you now and then? There is precious little positive to keep your mind occupied with dementors floating around you all hours of the day."

He paused for a moment and Hermione didn't have to wonder why. She remembered what it was like to be around dementors from her third year. There was no true way to describe the feeling unless you had been exposed to one before. She could not imagine what it must be like to be surrounded by the horrid creatures, feeding on your happiness for weeks, months, years at a time. It was truly astonishing that Antonin was not as insane as she expected him to be.

"I found that if I could focus on my actions that night in the Ministry, focus on the moment when I waved my wand to slash you with my curse that they didn't have as much of an effect on me. There was no joy or happiness in what I did to you. I was actually surprised to find out later that you weren't dead. I was certain you were."

"I almost was."

"Yes, so you can imagine my surprise when Thorfinn and I showed up in London to find you and the Weasley boy seated in a Muggle café. I was close enough to you that I could smell your hair."

Antonin reached across the bed and ran his left hand through her curls. She jumped at the unexpected contact, but did not push his hand away. He waited a few minutes before dropping his hand again and continuing.

"You were impressive again. Of course I didn't remember what happened until the Dark Lord reversed the memory charm. Clever witch. That's when I knew that I wanted you. Wanted to find you and protect you. When Thorfinn yelled and boasted about how he was going to find you and make you pay for what you did to us, I knew right then that if I wasn't the one to protect you, that there would be others waiting to injure you in unimaginably terrible ways."

"You frightened me that night in Inverness," she admitted. "When I was hiding in the garden I thought for sure that you wanted to hurt me. And then when you came to visit at the manor I thought you were looking for me to hurt me."

"I can understand your fear."

There was something about Antonin's story that really bothered Hermione. An aspect of the tale that had not been explained or even alluded to. She was even more scared to know the truth of what happened to her parents. Lucius did not have any details or at least none that he was willing to divulge to her. All she knew was that Antonin was in Australia when her parents were murdered. It was easy to assume that he was responsible. Coincidences are not real.

"You went to Australia looking for me," she said.

"Yes, I did."

"You found my parents."

"Yes, I did."

"You murdered my parents."

"No, I did not."

Hermione was not expecting his response.

"Yes, I went to Australia and yes, I found your parents," he explained. "But no, I did not murder them. I am, however, responsible for their deaths. I will not deny that."

"How?" She could feel the lump forming in her throat.

"It was never my intention to hurt them. How could they lead me to you if they were dead? Unfortunately, when I expressed my desire to search in Australia for your parents, the Dark Lord ordered several others to accompany me. I did not want company. I was certain that it would be easier on my own."

"What happened?"

"Alecto Carrow. She was the worst possible person to be sent on a reconnaissance mission or really anything that requires the slightest amount of intelligence and finesse. She knows nothing about stealth or the importance of keeping hostages alive. I would never have chosen her, but I was not given an option as to whom my companions would be. When we located your parents it didn't take long for us to realize that they were under a very strong memory charm. Your work, I assume?"

"Yes." She couldn't say much more. Her throat would not allow it.

"It took a while for us to break it, but when we finally did, it was obvious that they knew nothing about your whereabouts. Assumed you were getting ready for your seventh year at Hogwarts. They didn't even realize they were in another country. Alecto was convinced that they were lying. She was never the smartest witch. How she managed any O. is beyond me. I won't even comment on the fact that she spent over a year actually attempting to educate the future of our wizarding world. That is a terrifying realization to make.

"Alecto was convinced that your mother and father were hiding you. Nothing any of the rest of us could say would convince her otherwise. I'm sorry to report to you that she used the Cruciatus Curse on your mother repeatedly when she would not answer her questions."

"Where were you when this was happening? If not killing my parents was part of your plan, where were you?" she demanded surprising herself with the volume of her voice.

"I was searching the house for any possible clues as to where else you might be."

"You left my parents alone with that woman?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I did."

Hermione did not want to continue this discussion any longer. She threw the covers off of her side of the bed and crawled out of bed. Antonin did not even try to stop her. He understood her need to be away from him at that moment. Hermione crossed the room to the back door, throwing the door open before disappearing into the night.

Her movements were limited thanks to the damned silver bracelet on her wrist, but at least she could breathe in the cool, sea air for a few minutes to clear her head. She began to pace the small walled garden area. Her parents had been dead for a few days over two months. The pain was still fresh and real. Even though it had been nearly two solid years since she last laid eyes on them she knew it would take a long time, if ever, for her to recover from their deaths. Especially knowing that she was the cause. Yes, Alecto Carrow waved the wand, but she was the target. She was the reason that there were Death Eaters in her parents' home to begin with.

Antonin did not finish the story of how her parents were murdered, but she didn't want to hear anymore. It was enough to know that there would never be a day when she would walk through the front door of her parents' home to the familiar sight of her father reading the Times at the breakfast table while her mother flitted around the kitchen making breakfast. She would never hear her father's booming laughter or her mother's praise. Never. Never smell her father's favorite jacket that always smelled exactly like him no matter how many times her mother washed it. Never feel her mother's thin arms wrapped around her back in a gesture of comfort. Would she ever be able to move on? Ever be able to think about her parents without wanting to burst into tears or throw up the contents of her stomach? She hoped so, but for now, it was still too fresh.

Hermione sat down in the same chair she used earlier the previous day. The stars were plentiful out in the countryside where Dolohov's cottage was located. She leaned back in the chair to stare up at the clusters of stars millions of miles away. Astronomy was one of the subjects that she excelled in, but not necessarily because she had a passion for the subject. It was just another school subject to study charts and memorize facts. She certainly had never been one to try to tell the future from the stars like Trewlawney and Firenze used to teach at Hogwarts. Knowing her future events would be helpful at a time like this.

The cold air from the evening breeze blowing off of the ocean's surface tore right through her thin pajamas. She pulled her legs into the chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. Crying was what she expected to be doing, but somehow she couldn't summon up the strength to cry any more for her parents. She loved them. She missed them. She couldn't bear to imagine the fear they must have experienced in the last few moments of their lives. But she couldn't cry for them anymore. She spent three solid weeks holed up in her suite in the manor grieving and sobbing for her parents. Now she didn't know what to do with herself.

A warm cloak appeared around her shoulders. Antonin's approach was so silent that she would have assumed that it arrived solely through magic if she hadn't felt his hands on her shoulders smoothing the fabric down. He didn't say anything to her. Just arranged the cloak around her body before seating himself in the chair next to hers. With his wand he lit the fire pit and Hermione was grateful for the additional warmth. She had no idea what time it was and frankly did not care. As long as she was a prisoner in this cottage she did not exactly have a time table or an appointment schedule she had to keep.

They sat out in the garden for a long time in complete silence. Hermione fought an internal battle. Part of her knew she should be furious with Antonin for his part in her parents' demise. She was to an extent, but she understood that Alecto Carrow was a loose cannon. Yes, he made a mistake that got two innocents murdered by a madwoman. Yes, he was personally responsible for a great deal of pain and misery throughout his lifetime. She was finding it difficult to be as angry with him as she felt she was supposed to. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her.

"Come to bed." Antonin held his hand out to her after they'd been outside long enough that she could no longer feel her feet. She stared at his offered hand, but did not take it. "Please."

She made the decision to allow Antonin to lead her back to bed. Neither said anything to the other once they were under the covers. It did not take long before Hermione was asleep, dreaming of long hallways, closed doors and purple fire.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning to the sound of a loud crash coming from the kitchen. She reached over to the side of the bed next to her to find it empty. Antonin was already up. The sun was shining brightly already, so she assumed that he allowed her to sleep in. She was thankful. The rest was appreciated. It had been an emotional night and unfortunately her overactive dreams did not allow for much relaxing sleep. Another loud crash sounded from the kitchen followed by a muttered curse. Curious to know what was happening in the other room, she forced herself out of bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers and pulled on the robe Antonin laid out for her over an armchair.

When she entered the kitchen area Hermione was shocked by the complete disarray of the room. Dust was flying through the air. Cabinets were ripped from the walls and thrown all over the floor. The room looked like a fierce wizard duel decimated the area. She walked closer to the main section of the mess and caught sight of large, bulky figure bent over a pile of rubbish in front of the small fridge. Not recognizing the figure from the back, she instinctively reached for the wand that was not there. The moment she realized it was not there, she reached for a heavy bowl within arm's reach.

"What are you doing here?" She practically shouted at the figure, bowl in hand ready to throw if necessary.

"Bloody hell, woman! You scared me."

She wasn't expecting to find Gregory Goyle standing in Antonin's kitchen covered in dust and debris, but he was. The dull witted wizard raised both of his hands in a gesture of submission when he saw that she was somewhat armed with crockery.

"Answer my question. What are you doing here? Where's Antonin?"

"He's downstairs. I'm the one he hired to redo his kitchen."

When she realized that Goyle wasn't about to hex her into oblivion, she placed the bowl back on the counter top. She took stock of the tools hanging from the belt he was wearing. At least if he was lying about what he was doing there, he came well prepared with props for the delusion.

"You're a carpenter now?" she asked.

Goyle shrugged his shoulders.

"Turns out it's something I'm pretty good at. Makes my mum happy to know there's finally something I can do she can be proud of."

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't know there was someone else in the house when I woke up."

He cut his eyes towards the front of the cottage where the door to the basement staircase was located.

"Do you mind not mentioning this to _him_? He told me to be quiet so I didn't wake you up. He'll be really mad if he finds out I woke you up."

"It's all right. I won't say anything."

Goyle gave her a half-smile that made Hermione uncomfortable. She wasn't used to him being friendly and kind to her. In six years of schooling he had never smiled in her direction unless he was laughing at something horrible Draco Malfoy said.

"Are you all right, Granger?"

His question was in a whisper and she almost missed it.

"What?"

"Are you all right?" Goyle couldn't take his eyes off of the area near the staircase. "Is he treating you all right?"

Hermione could hardly believe that one of the worst Slytherins she went to school with actually seemed concerned about her well-being. It was bizarre. Had she entered an alternate universe where nothing made sense?

"You saved my life, Granger," Goyle continued. "You and Weasley could've just left me to burn like Vince. I'll never forget that."

"We just did what anyone else would've done."

"No, you didn't. I probably would've just left you. I'm not proud to admit it, but it's true."

Well, she couldn't exactly argue with him about that. She certainly could believe that he wouldn't have saved her life if the roles were reversed.

"I figure I owe you a life debt."

Hermione tensed up at his last comment. Life debts were not taken lightly in the magical community. If Gregory Goyle acknowledged that he owed her a life debt, he would be obligated to pay the debt before he died. If he failed to satisfy the debt, his heirs would be required to satisfy it. The former bodyguard and Neanderthalic crony of Draco Malfoy's all but offered to do whatever she asked, whenever she asked. She wondered if there might come a time when she could call in the debt.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Greg, as Goyle insisted immediately that Hermione call him from then on, arrived at the cottage the next morning bright and early. Antonin had proven to be an early riser. He was out of bed, showered and dressed before the arrival of the large, Slytherin boy via portkey. Hermione woke to the muffled sounds of conversation in the room next door. She was curious by the activity going on in the cottage. There was not a whole lot to get and keep her attention in her new abode. Any unusual bustle was a welcome distraction.

She tugged her bathrobe on quickly before exiting the bedroom to the kitchen and living room area. Antonin was finishing up giving Greg the instructions of what he wished the younger wizard to accomplish that day. He confessed his frustration the night before to Hermione as they were settling into bed for the night that the renovations were not completed yet. He had hoped that everything would be done long before she "moved in". The unexpected meeting at Malfoy Manor threw his original plans ahead of schedule.

"Good morning, Greg," she said once there was a slight lull in the conversation between the two wizards in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hermione," Greg answered.

He cut his eyes immediately to the large lunch bag his mother packed for him that morning. At first she completely missed the gesture. When Antonin's attention fell back on her for a moment, she could see Greg pointing to the bag behind Dolohov's back. He was rather emphatic that her attention be drawn to the lunch bag. Hermione nodded once in his direction when Antonin turned back around to face Greg to let him know that she understood.

"Didn't you say yesterday, Mr. Dolohov, that you wanted to talk to me about the fireplace in your study not working correctly?" Greg asked, a little too dramatically in Hermione's opinion. The boy was definitely not subtle.

Antonin nodded and led the young man out of the room. Greg caught Hermione's eyes once again before exiting the room completely. She waited until she heard the door to the basement open and then shut again before rushing over to the bag. In her excitement to open the bag to satisfy her curiosity, she almost ripped the bag open. _Calm down, Hermione_.

She could have kissed Greg. In fact, she made a plan to do just that whenever they had a few guaranteed moments alone together without fear of Antonin bursting in on them. Underneath the three ham sandwiches, two bags of potato crisps, the apple and the pear, there was a small bundle of what she immediately recognized as Daily Prophets. Antonin had been keeping the daily paper away from her in the three days since she arrived. She had no idea what had been going on in the world around her. She pulled the stack of papers out of the bag, shoved them down the front of her pajama pants and replaced the bag with only seconds to spare before she was rejoined in the kitchen by Greg and Antonin. She gave Greg a surreptitious wink that he returned with a shaky grin. Making her excuses that she wished to take a shower, she snuck into the bathroom, locked the door and settled herself down on the closed lid of the toilet with a stack full of reading.

She organized the papers by date before she allowed herself to delve into any of them. In fact she did her best to keep her eyes off of the moving pictures on the front page as much as possible. When she had the five papers in order, she finally looked closely at the first one.

June 4, 1999

 _Beloved Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge Murdered_

 _It is with great sadness that the Daily Prophet must report that at approximately 10:41 pm yesterday evening Dolores Jane Umbridge was brutally murdered outside of her namesake_ The Umbridge Home for Young Ladies _by none other than Undesirable Number Two Hermione Granger. Representatives from the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement confirmed the dastardly deed had been completed by the notoriously dangerous Granger._

" _I always suspected that she was capable of extreme violence. Even when we were in school she always struck me as the kind of nasty person always out for blood. I do hope Granger is finally caught and made to pay for her actions," said former classmate of Granger's Marietta Edgecombe, 20. Loyal readers of the Daily Prophet will recall a series of exposes done of the so-called "Dumbledore's Army" student rebellion group founded by Hermione Granger as well as now deceased Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Poor Miss Edgecombe was initially convicted with the other members of the rebel group until information came to light that she was in fact, falsely accused by Miss Granger of being a member. All charges were dropped against Miss Edgecombe and the Daily Prophet hopes she lives a long and successful life._

 _Dolores Umbridge, perhaps best known for her work in bringing the so-called Muggle Born Witches and Wizards to justice with her Muggle Born Registration Committee, was at the height of her Ministry career. Less than a year ago she founded the beneficial Umbridge Home for Young Ladies as a way to bring more magical children into our society for Ministry approved parents to adopt and love as their own. Her greatest achievement in doing her part of repopulate the Wizarding World has been met with fierce, delusional critics since its inception. Why anyone in their right mind would be against an organization that allows for the opportunity of wayward young witches to pay their debt to society and be given the opportunity for future achievements, is certainly beyond the understanding of the staff here at the Daily Prophet._

 _Ms. Umbridge was responding to reports of a mass break in at the Home last evening (for full report of the raid led by none other than Hermione Granger, please refer to page 3) when she was attacked by the malicious friend of traitor Harry Potter. Using a brutal Dark spell that our experts have yet been able to identify, poor Dolores was dead before any help could arrive. Miss Granger was swiftly apprehended by a member of our Dark Lord's forces, but reports indicate that she was able to use her extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts to escape once again._

 _An official Ministry funeral will be held for our dear Dolores on June 9th at the Ministry of Magic, London offices. She is survived by her beloved familiar Miss Speckled Fancy Pants, an exquisite Himalayan said to be distraught and currently under observation by our friends at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley._

The report on page three about the raid on the Umbridge Home provided unsurprisingly very little actual facts or details of what happened that night. Mostly it consisted of extolling the virtues of the Home and lamenting the fact that extensive interior spell damage, as well as a disturbing sudden lack of capable staff meant that the building must be abandoned. There were plans for possibly expanding the project to another location in the future, but no details were provided. Hermione was touted as a law-breaking rabble-rouser who forced her way into the building (never mind the fact that witches were not allowed _in_ the building without a special incantation known only to Ministry officials) to free the 'poor, misguided young ladies trying to right their wrongs to society'. There were additional blurbs requesting that the general public be on the lookout for groups of young, pregnant witches or young women with newborn babies. A special Owl hotline had been set up for crime tips possibly leading to the whereabouts of the missing "inmates".

The June 5th newspaper was essentially a rehash of the previous day's paper. No new information had been provided. The front page was dominated by a smirking, toad faced witch in ghastly floral robes with a huge bow in her hair. Dolores Umbridge was memorialized by dozens of people from the Minister for Magic all the way down to the witch who cut her horrendous hair. Hermione was so disgusted by the edition that she wished she had her wand for nothing else than to set the rag on fire.

Hermione's face dominated the edition from June 6th. A stern photograph of her that made her look angry and a great deal more frightening than she had ever seen herself took up most of the front page with the single word headline of _CAPTURED_.

 _The Wizarding World can breathe a little easier this morning as reports have been confirmed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Undesirable Number Two, the notorious murderer Hermione Jean Granger, has once and for all finally been captured. Late last night Miss Granger was apprehended at the vast Malfoy Manor Estate in Wiltshire, having apparently been a hidden guest of some time of the reclusive Lucius Malfoy._

 _Millionaire playboy and heir to the vast Lestrange fortune due to his older brother Rodolphus' mysterious disappearance last year, Rabastan Lestrange was present at the Manor for the arrest. Speaking to the Daily Prophet from his private room at St. Mungo's, Mr. Lestrange was gracious enough to give a full interview despite his massive injuries caused by Mr. Malfoy._

 _"I've suspected my former friend Lucius was hiding something for quite some time, but could not figure out what it was. He supposedly had his goddaughter staying alone with him in his home for several months. Concerned that perhaps her mother, who incidentally was an excellent friend of mine in our Hogwarts days, might be unaware of her daughter's behavior, I knew it was my duty to get into contact with her. Imagine my surprise to learn that Lucius' goddaughter was_ not _living in his home, but rather, been living with her mother in Salem all of this time!"_

 _Mr. Lestrange explained that Hermione Granger had been hidden by Mr. Malfoy in his manor using liberal doses of the polyjuice potion, a potion that incidentally is highly illegal and banned as a dangerous substance by the Ministry, to disguise herself as a distant relation of the Malfoy family. When the ruse was discovered, Miss Granger was immediately remanded into custody. She is currently serving a life sentence at a private, undisclosed location to prevent any possible escape attempts by the rebel forces._

 _Due to Miss Granger's capture, the list of Undesirables has been updated. Please see below:_

 _Undesirable No 1: Neville Longbottom – Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord and Revolutionary Activity including setting fire to the village of Hogsmeade. Considered to be very dangerous. Curse on sight. Last seen in Hogsmeade. May have since fled the country. Believed to be travelling with Hannah Abbott. Large reward offered for information leading to his capture, disembowelment or death._

 _Undesirable No 2: Kingsley Shacklebolt – Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Seditious Language and Acts, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Dereliction of Duties and Revolutionary Activity including setting fire to the village of Hogsmeade. Considered to be very dangerous. Former Auror. Last seen in Hogsmeade. May be using ties with Muggle Prime Minister to remain undetected. Large reward offered for information leading to capture, disembowelment or death._

 _Undesirable No 3: Lucius Malfoy – Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Accessory to the Murder of a Senior Ministry Official, Interfering with the Capture of a Known Undesirable. Very dangerous. Last seen in Wiltshire. Large reward offered for information leading to capture, disembowelment or death._

 _Undesirable No 4: George Weasley – Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Seditious Language and Acts, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Revolutionary Activities including participating in the raid on the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies, Smuggling of Humans and Property. Last seen in London. May be travelling with Angelina Johnson. Large reward offered for information leading to capture or disembowelment._

 _Undesirable No 5: Aberforth Dumbledore –Wanted for Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord, Aiding and Abetting Known Undesirable, Smuggling of Humans and Livestock and Revolutionary Activity including setting fire to the village of Hogsmeade. Last seen in Hogsmeade. May now be in the Godric's Hollow area. Large reward offered for information leading to capture of disembowelment._

Hermione burst into tears after reading that Lucius' cover was blown. She knew it would be, but to know that the entire world was aware of his complicity in her evasion from the authorities was extremely upsetting. He was a walking target. She hoped that he had been able to connect with other members of the Resistance for protection. Knowing that Rabastan was currently in St. Mungo's did her heart some good, however. The bastard deserved to be dead, but seriously injured was almost as good.

She skimmed through the other editions that Greg brought her, but there really wasn't any additional information to gain from them. All that mattered was that none of her other loved ones had been caught yet. It was encouraging to read that the authorities were having zero luck in tracking down any of the "Umbridge Girls". Percy's plans to smuggle them in to Russia were, so far, working splendidly. Hermione could only hope that they continued to stay hidden until it was safe to return. She wasn't entirely sure that that day would ever come, but she had to remain positive.

A loud knock on the bathroom door brought Hermione back to reality. She jumped off of the toilet lid and crossed the room quickly to shove the now-wadded up newspapers under the sink that had been set up as hers. Antonin's voice called to her from the other side of the door. She pretended not to hear it as she quickly stripped all of her clothes off and almost slipped on her arse jumping under the running water of the shower she had the presence of mind to start the moment she entered the bathroom with the forbidden papers.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" Antonin asked as he pushed the door open and closed it behind him. "You've been in here a long time."

She continued to pretend like she didn't hear him by putting her head completely under the water. After several moments she had an uncomfortable feeling fall over her. She looked up to see Antonin standing just outside the open shower door with a look on his face that needed no explanation. His eyes roamed over her naked form in frank appreciation. A twisting in her stomach made Hermione suddenly very nervous and her entire body erupted in goose bumps. Remembering the last time she was in a shower alone with a wizard, she briefly wondered what it would be like to have the man standing there staring at her join her. The inappropriate thought made her cheeks flush a brilliant red. Antonin dropped his eyes, coughed and excused himself from the room.

Hermione finished her shower soon after. She took her time getting dressed and brushing her hair. Stepping out of the safety of the bathroom after what passed between her captor and herself while she was showering was a daunting prospect. Whatever interaction they had would be awkward to say the least. Finally working up her Gryffindor courage to face whatever was ahead, she exited the bathroom, passed through the empty bedroom and headed into the main living area of the small cottage.

Greg was pointing his wand at several paintbrushes flying through the kitchen. She watched the walls begin to turn a faint shade of blue for a minute or two. Greg did not even notice her at first. He continued directing the individual paintbrushes to paint the bare walls with a great deal of concentration. When he finally saw her, he almost jumped and narrowly missed sending all of the loaded paintbrushes careening towards her freshly washed self.

"Sorry, Hermione," he apologized. "Didn't see you standing there. Are you looking for Mr. Dolohov?"

She did not even have a chance to open her mouth to reply in the firm negative before he answered the question she hadn't even asked.

"He's down in his study. He just had me fix the door so it won't stick anymore."

"Thanks."

Feeling obligated now to seek out her prison warden, she walked across the living room to the study door. _Perhaps it's best that we get the awkwardness out of the way as soon as possible_ , she thought in an effort to psych herself up for the visit. A gentle pull on the door proved that Greg had done a good job in fixing the door that always stuck. It did not even make a sound when she pulled it open to walk carefully down the stairs.

Hermione padded down the stairs in her bare feet without making even the slightest sound. When she turned towards the sofa in front of the fireplace she saw the back of Antonin's head. His left arm was extended across the back of the couch with a glass of fire whiskey in his hand (regardless of the fact that it was only about nine in the morning) and his right hand was… There never was anything more awkward than walking in on someone in the most intimate of moments. Antonin's thoughts obviously had not strayed far from what he saw upstairs in the shower because he was clutching his rather impressive member in his right hand and based on the quiet grunts she could hear, Hermione was certain that his release was not far in coming.

"Hermione…" he softly hissed out his clenched teeth.

She must have made an inadvertent gasp because Antonin's head swiveled around immediately and his dilated pupils met hers. He did not say a word to her, but the roles were reversed from earlier. His cheeks were the ones flaming red. She muttered a quiet apology and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. The rest of her day was spent assiduously avoiding Antonin's gaze as her head remained buried in a large tome about the History of Magic in Russia.

Every morning for the next seven mornings Hermione found herself waking up before Antonin. She could not explain why she was suddenly earlier to wake than he was. Despite the earlier embarrassing incidents that neither one of them ever mentioned again, they were settling into an almost comfortable routine. It reminded Hermione of the first few days living in the manor with Lucius. Neither of them quite knew what to do or say to each other in the beginning, but eventually they were marginally relaxed enough around each other to spend part of each day engaged in companionable silences and in somewhat lively discussions. At night they retreated to their own sides of the bed and slept peacefully in the same bed without actually touching each other. Except the mornings had become a little more awkward for Hermione.

On the first morning after the embarrassing incidents of the shower and the study, she woke up to hear the soft sounds of Antonin's snoring next to her. Her back was turned towards his body, but her left arm was stretched out behind her back, the fingertips on the hand brushing against his rather nicely toned stomach. When she realized that at some point in her slumber she managed to touch the Death Eater, she froze in fear. She pulled her hand back as gently as she could while he continued to sleep on undisturbed.

The second morning Hermione woke up facing Antonin with her right hand placed palm down on the middle of his stomach. She froze again and examined the sleeping man to make certain he was actually asleep before removing her hand once more from his body.

And then on the third morning Hermione woke up facing Antonin again with her entire right arm loosely draped over his midsection. Their bodies were still several inches apart from each other on the bed, but she could not understand why she kept waking up each morning even closer to the man than she was the day before.

On the fourth morning she woke up on her stomach with her right shoulder pushed firmly against Antonin's chest. His right arm was thrown above his head and like the days before, he slept on as she carefully wiggled her body back over to her side of the bed.

The fifth morning Hermione had both her right arm draped over his stomach and her right leg draped over his leg.

The sixth morning was almost an exact repeat of the fifth except she had somehow managed to close the gaps between them even further in her sleep.

Finally, on the seventh morning Hermione woke with the slightest crick in her neck. The very early morning sunlight was shining through the sheer window coverings to rest across her face. She squeezed her eyes tighter in a futile attempt to keep the bright light out of them. When she moved her face, she realized that her cheek was rested against a very solid hunk of flesh. After several seconds of internal deliberation, she slowly opened her eyes to come to the realization that not only was her right leg draped over Antonin's leg and her right arm lying across his lean stomach, but she was snuggled into the crook of his right shoulder with his arm wrapped around her back, pulling her close to allow her head to rest on his bare chest.

She didn't know how she was going to possible extricate herself from this position without waking up the slumbering man she was practically laying on top of. Hermione steadied her own breathing and began to ease back off of his chest. She hadn't even moved an inch when the arm wrapped across her back tightened to pull her back to her earlier position resting on his chest. It was then that she realized the light snoring she had come to expect from Antonin was not happening. He was every bit as awake as she was. Probably had been awake longer even.

"Good morning," he whispered into her hair.

"Good morning," she replied, too terrified to move.

Antonin turned his entire body in one swift, gentle movement to lie on his side, hovering over Hermione. Their eyes met only inches apart and she struggled to breathe. He brought his left hand up to run gently through her hair, pulling through some of the inevitable tangles she had each morning. She wanted to tell him to stop, tell him that he shouldn't touch her, but her mouth couldn't form the words. Closing her eyes to keep from looking into his rapidly darkening eyes above her, she relaxed her body, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling of him playing with her hair. When she felt the lightest pressure on her lips from his, her eyes shot open at once, but she did not push him away.

Antonin's kiss was much gentler than it was the first time he kissed her. Almost as if he didn't want to scare her away. He exerted very little pressure on her lips. She lay there unmoving for several moments. Still too frightened to move or even to think. _But are you really frightened?_ She could've cursed herself for her doubts. The soft, plump lips caressing hers did not belong to the man she wished was there with her. It wouldn't be fair to give in to the attention. Even a Death Eater deserved more than that. Antonin ceased the one sided kissing to pull his head back and stare at Hermione. She didn't want to meet his eyes. Her courage was failing her.

He cupped her cheek with the hand he removed from her hair. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone and her entire body shivered at the sensation. She was surprised by the effect he was having on her. This was Antonin Dolohov, for Merlin's sake! How could she go from being terrified of him for months, no, years, to suddenly wanting to lose herself completely in his embrace? She lifted her eyes to meet his. He must have seen something in the brown pools because with a lick of his bottom lip, he renewed his attentions to her lips with an increased vigor.

She responded to him at the second kiss. His lips were insistent, nudging hers apart. Possessively his tongue sought out hers and she was only too willing to oblige. They lay there for a long time exploring each other's mouths once again, breaking apart only briefly for Antonin to rain hot, wet kisses down his throat, her neck, and to her collarbone. Hermione ran her hands through his dark, brown hair, pulling on it ever so slightly to keep his lips from travelling further down on her body than she was willing. His hands were sliding up and down the curves he had been admiring the week before while she stood underneath the shower.

His hands found where her pajama shirt met her pajama pants. When his warm hands slipped under the fabric of her top to move towards the breasts he had been unable to keep his eyes off of, she tensed up again. Feeling the sudden change in the young woman beneath him, Antonin stopped immediately. He removed his eager mouth from her frozen mouth. Sensing her reluctance to continue, he placed a final kiss on her cheek and pushed himself off of the bed.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. She wasn't sure why she tensed up so much at his touch. The biological signs of her belly twisting and a rush of moisture between her legs was enough to inform her that despite the fact that she _shouldn't_ , she actually didn't want him to stop. Tears burst out of her eyes at the thought that she was so willing to betray Lucius.

"No, no, my darling _,_ " he crooned, brushing the tears off of her face and lightly pecking her temple. "There is nothing for you to be sorry for. Nothing."

He removed himself completely from the bed. Adjusting his pajama pants in an attempt to hide the effect that the morning's activities had on him, Antonin crossed the bedroom to enter the bathroom. When Hermione heard the shower running, she didn't even have to imagine what she would find if she walked in right then. She rolled over to her side of the bed and lay there for a little while longer kicking herself mentally for allowing herself to give in to the temptations that had presented themselves. Yes, she was stuck for an indeterminate amount of time with this man, but that certainly didn't mean she had to give into her base instincts simply because she was lonely and thought he was attractive. How would she explain this to Lucius when she saw him again? _If_ she saw him again?

There was a sound in the kitchen that informed Hermione that Greg had likely arrived for the day. She climbed out of bed and quickly dressed before Antonin even shut the water off in the shower. Assuming that he would likely be in there a little while longer, she exited the room to greet the handywizard.

"Good morning, Hermione," Greg said the moment her unbrushed, bushy head appeared in the kitchen. He was awfully cheerful in the morning, she'd learned. Too cheerful.

"Morning, Greg. Antonin will be out in a little while."

Greg's eyes lingered a little longer on her kiss-swollen lips than Hermione cared for. She could only imagine how bloody awful she must look. Her brush was in the bathroom and after the incident in the study, there was no way she was going to enter that room while Antonin was still in there. She imagined that she likely had the just-shagged look that she used to see on so many of her housemates when they returned from the boys' side of the dormitories in school. Greg was at least a gentleman enough to not mention a word about her appearance.

"Not a problem," he replied, his voice cracking just a tiny bit with nerves. "I was just about to finish up hanging the rest of the cabinets. Is he… is he, uhh, _awake_?"

"Yes, he's in the shower. Make as much noise as you want."

She exited the kitchen to settle herself down on the couch in the living room with an impossibly large book. Assuming that she could even focus on anything as banal as reading after the morning she had already had. In the ten days that she had been living in the cottage with Antonin, she'd made a fairly large dent in his collection of Russian wizarding histories. She was fascinated to learn that she knew next to nothing about the subject. That was usually the only encouragement she needed to dive headfirst into a new course of study.

She was a couple of chapters in when she felt strong hands lightly squeeze her shoulders. Antonin smiled down at her and she thought for yet another time in her acquaintance with the formidable wizard how unnerving it could be to see him grin. Seemed so out of character, but even she had to admit that she didn't really know the man. She only had assumptions and rumors.

"I have to leave," he announced. "I'm not sure when I will be back. It may be late. Will you be all right?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." It also never ceased to amaze her how he could pretend that her imprisonment was so normal. He always acted as if he she was there of her own free will and could leave whenever she desired.

Antonin kissed her lightly on her cheek before sweeping out the front door. When the door closed and she heard the sound of Apparition, she pushed herself off of the couch to go speak once again to Greg. She had some questions for him and this was the first time that they had been completely alone for any significant amount of time since he started working for Dolohov. Greg was levitating a large cabinet onto the wall when she entered the room. Not wanting to disturb the man at work, she stood back to watch. He wasn't being boastful when he told her that he had actually found something he was good at. Hermione was impressed by the way he could levitate the cabinet with one spell and keep it aloft while using another spell to attach it to the wall. When the cabinet was permanently affixed to its new spot, Greg dropped his wand arm and caught sight of Hermione standing in the doorway.

"That looks great, Greg."

"Thanks." His face blushed red at her compliment.

She sat down at the kitchen table out of his way. He seemed a little nervous that he suddenly had an audience, but did not let that stop him from continuing to attach the finished cabinets to the wall. Hermione sat quietly admiring his work. Her attention was on what he was doing, but her mind was miles away.

"Greg," she finally said after almost twenty minutes of the only sounds being the incantations coming out of Greg's mouth. "How often do you talk to Drac… err, I mean, Malfoy?"

Greg lowered his wand and turned to face her with a wrinkled brow. Hermione tried to remain as neutral as possible, but she knew even a dimwit like Gregory Goyle could figure out what she wanted. She was a terrible liar despite her months of practice at Lucius' side.

"Draco and I aren't as good of friends as we used to be," he explained. "I don't see him very often at all."

"Would there ever be a reason that you would see him? Maybe run into him at the pub or something?"

Greg sat down in the chair across the table from her. He released a loud exhale.

"What do you really want to know, Hermione?"

"Would you be able to pass a message on to Draco for me?"

Draco was the most obvious choice. Obviously she couldn't just send a message straight to Lucius. She had no idea where he was or how to get a hold of him. If she had her wand, she could send a message with her patronus to him or to another member of the Resistance. Without magic, she was forced to rely on either written messages or word of mouth. Draco would know where his father was. Or at the very least he would know how to get in touch with someone who knew where Lucius was.

"I don't think so, Hermione. It's too dangerous."

She was disappointed but not surprised. Greg mentioned earlier in the week when they were left alone for a short time while Antonin went for a walk outside of the garden gates that of all of the Death Eaters there were still alive, Dolohov was the one who frightened him the most. Antonin was so notorious for his temper and his cruelty that when his father volunteered him to work as his handyman, Greg almost turned down the opportunity for work. He was intimidated by the man and exceptionally nervous every moment he was in his presence. Earlier she'd tried to get Greg to tell her where the cottage was located, but he couldn't answer. Explained that he arrived every day through a portkey that Antonin activated the day before. He had no idea where the cottage was located. It was Unplottable. The disappointment in having almost no clue where she was beyond the fact that she could see the ocean out the window was devastating.

"You owe me a life debt." She never intended on throwing that fact in his face until that moment. If she had to rely on the fact that the wizard sitting at the table across from her was willing to acknowledge that he owed her, then she would.

"Dolohov would kill me if he found out I was trying to help you escape."

"Who said anything about escaping?" The words surprised Hermione as they fell out of her mouth. Of course she wanted to escape! _But at least you are safe here and no one is searching for you_ , she thought. _It could be much worse. If you leave here you will be in great danger and so will anyone else who tries to help you._ "I just want to get a message out to those that might be looking for me."

Greg seemed just as surprised by her admission as she was. His face relaxed a bit after a few moments of contemplation.

"I can't make any promises, Hermione. He might not want to see me again."

"Thank you!"

She leapt across the table and kissed him on the cheek. Then she rushed out of the room towards the study, leaving the bemused man still seated at the table wondering what kind of world he was living in if Hermione Granger just threw herself at his head and kissed him. Hermione was able to find parchment and an ink quill easily. With her help over the past few days Antonin had made great strides in organizing his sanctuary.

 _Lucius,_

 _I am safe and unharmed. I don't know exactly where I am at. All I know is I am in Antonin's cottage somewhere on the coast. Please be careful. I've been so worried about you! Don't worry about me and don't search for me right now. It's too dangerous! Keep yourself safe first._

 _Hermione_

She wasn't naïve enough to believe that her pleas for Lucius to be careful would be heeded. He had already proven that he was willing to put himself in grave danger to protect her. She folded the note up as tightly as she could before heading back upstairs. Convincing a reluctant Greg to let her borrow his wand for only a moment, she sealed the message in such a way that only Lucius would be able to open it and read the message.

"Thank you so much, Greg!" she said, returning his wand and giving him a second kiss on his reddened cheek.

Antonin returned late that night, long after Hermione fell asleep. She successfully managed to keep herself on her side of the bed for the entire night and was able to get up for the day before a repeat of the morning before happened with Antonin. If he seemed a little annoyed by the change in events, he tried very hard not to show it in front of her. When he was summoned once again, she almost tackled Greg in her insistence to find out what happened the night before.

"Please don't ask me to do that again, Hermione," he begged, pushing a piece of folded parchment in her eager hands.

 _Nice try, my darling, but you will not convince me to stop searching for you. I will find you and I will save you. I am too damn stubborn (I blame your Gryffindorish influence) to protect myself first. Please keep hope, my love. I am coming for you. –L_

The note was charmed to burst into flames the moment she finished reading it. Even the tiny, painful scorch marks on her hand couldn't remove the smile from her face and the dread in the pit of her stomach.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione woke up on the morning of Saturday, June 19th on the wrong side of the bed. She was certain that when she went to sleep the night before that she had been on her usual side. She'd even made sure that she was as close to the edge of the bed without actually falling off before she closed her eyes. The moment she became conscious that morning, she slowly opened her eyes and found them settling on her usual, unoccupied pillow on her usual, unoccupied side of the bed. At some point in the middle of the night or very early morning, her entire body travelled several feet to the left to land in her current position, her head on Antonin's pillow, her bum pushed firmly against his… well, she certainly didn't want to dwell on what her bum was pushed up against.

Antonin's robust arms were wrapped completely around her petite frame. At some point he had even draped his left leg over her legs in an additionally possessive and dominant embrace. Hermione couldn't breathe. She could tell by his light snores that Antonin was still blissfully asleep in whatever sick, demented dream world that evil Death Eaters experienced, but she knew there was nothing in Heaven, Hell or Earth that would allow her to be able to fall back asleep with this man's entire body spooned up against hers.

Ordinarily, she loved spooning in bed. Even while she was on the run searching for horcruxes with Harry and Ron living in a tent, most nights ended with Ron's arms wrapped firmly around her. It made her feel safe and protected. Like no matter what they might come up against she would not be alone. One of the hardest parts of him leaving them when he did was that she had trouble sleeping without the comfort of the pressure of his arms around her. And Lucius. Lucius couldn't keep his hands to himself. Even if she tried to move away from him while they were sleeping, somehow his arms always found her and brought her back to his chest.

Thinking of Lucius while being held in such an intimate embrace as she was at that moment by another man made Hermione want to cry. She missed him so much that she feared at times that her heart would burst and her lungs collapse. Even though their relationship was relatively short, only a little over a month had passed since their first kiss and their first _everything_ , it had been intense. Besides, she was fairly certain that she fell in love with him the night he returned from the Umbridge Home and proceeded to down an entire bottle of fire whiskey. His vulnerability that night proved to her that he was a man worth loving. He had his faults, naturally, and she was sure that he would have mistakes to make up for the rest of his lifetime, but he was the wizard she wished was lying behind her.

Hermione began to inch over to her side of the bed very slowly. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake up the snoring man next to her. She had hardly moved at all when his arms tightened around her and brought her right back to the space she'd just attempted to vacate. Antonin kissed the top of her bushy hair and moved his lips to her ear.

"Where do you think you are going, Hermione? I was sleeping so well with you so close. Don't leave yet." His tone was soft and teasing but full of a promise that Hermione knew she was not ready for.

"I have to go to the loo," she lied, successfully pulling herself out of his insistent arms.

She all but ran to the bathroom, ignoring his protests behind her. Once inside the room she didn't even bother with the lock. He'd already proven in the past that a simple locked door wouldn't keep him from entering the bathroom whenever he wished to. She took her time in preparing for the morning. After all, she was not exactly in a hurry to go back out there. When she completed her morning rituals, she eyed the bathtub. Her entire body was a bit stiff from the position her body was in while she was sleeping and perhaps after she took a nice, long, hot bath she could exit the room to find either an Antonin that had fallen back asleep or one that was up and out of the bed for the day. Either one of them was a better option than the one currently lying in bed waiting for her return.

The tub filled quickly with a fragrant lavender foam. Hermione undressed swiftly and eased herself down into the water. Immediately she felt more relaxed and calm. Her mother always told her that there were no worries that couldn't be calmed with a hot bath and a hot cup of tea. Of course, her mother was a Muggle who didn't exactly have to worry about Lord Voldemort or his army of Death Eaters. Her biggest concern before she was murdered by that bitch Alecto Carrow was whether or not enough of her patients would come down with enough cavities in their teeth to pay the mortgage on their second home. Hermione was almost certain that with the exception of the night where she actually lost her life, her mother had likely never feared for her life. Never had a moment that made her wonder if she would live to see another morning. Never worried that she would never make it home again.

Her thoughts drifted exclusively to her parents. Part of her was glad that they no longer had to exist in a world as cruel as the one she was living in. If they were already dead, they would never have to worry about dying again. She desperately hoped there was something after death. Some paradise that dead loved ones could spend eternity in free from worry, pain or strife. In her most optimistic moments, Hermione believed there was a God and that Heaven existed. Too much of the world was beautiful and perfectly designed to simply be a matter of accident. But in her most pessimistic moments, she knew that they were alone. No benevolent figure was watching over her life, keeping her safe or even giving a damn what happened to her. Needless to say, she had had more pessimistic moments lately than any others.

The bath water was almost cold and the bubbles almost completely disappeared before Hermione stood up to exit the tub. Her skin was wrinkled from long exposure to the water. She wrapped her body in a towel and carefully peeked out the door to the bedroom before leaving the bathroom. The large bed was empty and remade. The room empty. She took advantage of the absence of Antonin to take her time getting dressed for the day. Familiar sounds and smells of food being cooked next door informed her that she could expect at least a few minutes to herself.

Antonin stood over the stove still clad in his pajamas when Hermione finally left the sanctuary of the unoccupied bedroom. She was certain that she would never get used to the man doing something so domestically normal as cooking, but indeed, he was generally the one who prepared their meals. He seemed to enjoy it and as Hermione only cooked when absolutely necessary, she certainly did not mind.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked with a warm smile when she entered the room.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "Very relaxing."

"You were in there a while. I was almost worried."

Remembering another time in recent memory when he was worried enough about her to check on her in the bathroom, she felt embarrassed enough to drop her eyes from his gaze. She didn't want to think about the morning he walked in on her in the shower again. It still made her blush to think about it. Brushing past Antonin, she crossed the small kitchen to sit at the table. Greg was almost finished with the remodeling of the kitchen and she changed the subject to discuss the changes with Antonin.

"Do you think it too small?" he asked as he banished a couple of plates to the table.

"Too small? The kitchen?"

"Yes, I'm wondering if I shouldn't enlarge it next."

"I like it the way it is," she answered honestly. "It's comfortable. Tidy. If you had more people living in your cottage you might have to expand the eating area at least, but with just two people, it's perfectly fine. Do you plan on someone else moving in here?"

Antonin stepped across the small space with his hands full of their breakfast. He laid the dishes down on the table before answering.

"No, but accidents certainly happen."

Hermione was unsure what he meant by his comment, so she chose not to say a word in response. She occupied her hands by filling up both of their plates in silence. When she handed his plate back to him, she wasn't surprised to see his intense gaze focused entirely on her. He often did that. Just as he used to stare at the fireplace in Lucius' drawing room, she often found his gaze focused on her in such a way that she felt almost naked in his presence. It was unnerving to say the least. She gave him a small, hesitant smile before dropping her eyes to her own plate.

"I was thinking about having Greg start work on the attic next," he announced in an attempt to bring Hermione back in to the conversation.

"What do you want to do with the attic?"

"I haven't decided yet, but it is a large space. Perhaps another bedroom?"

Hermione nodded in agreement emphatically. Another bedroom would be the perfect addition to the cottage. It would prevent any more embarrassing, awkward moments like the one she experienced earlier that morning when she woke up wrapped in his arms. Having her own room would make her imprisonment at least a little bit easier.

They finished their breakfast in a companionable silence. Hermione was not in the mood to keep a conversation going and Antonin was usually such a quiet man that silence did not bother him. When their plates were empty, Antonin banished them to the sink and immediately began the meal clean up with only a few silent waves of his wand. Hermione rose from the table. Before she made it even a step away from the eating area, Antonin's hand reached out to grab her wrist. It was a gentle grasp. Just enough pressure on her wrist to guide her back to his side of the table where he pulled her down to sit on his knee. Hermione's entire body stiffened at the new seating arrangement. She was partially certain that she would never feel comfortable enough around him to not stress out at the smallest physical contact.

"I have something for you," he said softly in her ear.

He waved his wand and a beautiful bouquet of pink camellias appeared out of thin air to land on the table in front of them. Hermione couldn't help herself. She was impressed. They were breathtaking. She leaned forward, forgetting for just a moment that she was seated on Antonin's knee to smell the strong fragrance coming off of the flowers.

"Thank you," she said. "They're gorgeous. What is the occasion?"

"Does there have to be a reason?" he asked, lightly kissing her hair for the second time that morning. Her entire body trembled at the contact which only encouraged him to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer to his chest.

"Is there a significance to there being fifteen flowers instead of the traditional twelve?"

She was desperate for anything to talk about to change the subject of the conversation and get his mind focused on something other than what she was certain he was currently thinking about. Antonin chuckled, obviously aware of her plans.

"You are very perceptive," he replied. "My mother always told me that it was thoughtless to give a young lady an even number of flowers. Even numbers of flowers are typically only given for condolences on the death of a loved one."

"And thirteen is an unlucky number," she answered for him.

"Forgive my silly superstitions. They were engrained in me from a small boy."

"I think superstitions are fascinating. There is always an interesting origin and they differ from culture to culture. Like for instance, the number thirteen is…"

Antonin did the only thing he could think of to keep the witch seated in his lap from rambling on about nonsense until she ran out of breathable air. He kissed her soundly. Hermione was caught off guard with the sudden intrusion in her personal space, the words on her tongue swallowed with the increasingly intense kiss. Antonin used her temporary lapse in conscious thinking to use his hands to maneuver her legs around his hips. Suddenly finding herself straddling the Death Eater, Hermione tried to break the kiss. Antonin would not let her. His hands were on her back in a moment pulling her entire frame back into his. Despite her initial resistance, Hermione wasn't pushing him away any longer. Their hands were roaming freely over the other's bodies.

"Damn!" Antonin hissed, breaking the contact to push Hermione very gently from his lap.

"What is it?" she asked, struggling to catch her breath.

He clutched his left forearm and grimaced in pain for a moment longer. She did not require any further explanation. He was being summoned. Lately he had been summoned more and more frequently, sometimes leaving her alone with Greg all day.

"I had plans for today," he said, rising from the chair. "Plans to take you down to the beach. I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to get out of the cottage for a little while."

Hermione could not hide her disappointment. She had been climbing the walls almost from the moment she arrived. A journey outside of the garden gates, even a short one, would have been most welcome.

"I am not sure when I will return," he continued as he headed towards the bedroom to change. "It may be late."

Short minutes later Hermione was completely alone in the cottage once again. _What are you thinking, Hermione?_ she demanded of herself internally. _What woman in her right mind would willingly betray "Luscious" Lucius Malfoy with a man like Dolohov? All right, Antonin isn't as handsome as Lucius, but he's certainly attractive. Tall, dark and handsome is a fairly common set to be attracted to, right? Yes, Antonin is a few years older than Lucius but you'd never know that either of them were a day over thirty five. Wizarding genes are wonderful and didn't Antonin say that his great-grandfather lived to be over one hundred and eighty? He has many, many years to go before he even hits middle age!_ Hermione lay on the living room sofa trying to justify her actions for a little while longer.

She was lonely, she decided. _Lonely and scared and aren't we most vulnerable when we are lonely and scared? Antonin isn't at all how I imagined him to be._ And he really wasn't. Her nightmares usually consisted of Antonin cursing her again with his purple fire like he had in the Department of Mysteries. Those were the least terrifying dreams. The worst of them had him torturing her endlessly until she begged him for death. It was difficult to reconcile the object of her greatest fears and anxieties with the man who kissed her until she could hardly remember her own name, let alone remember that he was an evil man who took joy out of torturing and murdering innocents. Hermione blushed thinking about how the morning might have progressed further if they'd not been interrupted by his summons. If Antonin had not left, she was all but certain she would be naked by now. If Hermione didn't understand more about the way love and lust potions worked, she would have sworn that she was under the influence of one. That seemed to be the only logical explanation for her behavior.

 _What was that horrible quote Grannie Granger was always spouting off? 'The Devil tempts all other men, but idle men tempt the devil.'_ Hermione jumped up from the sofa determined to keep herself occupied. She was certain that the more she thought about it, the more she would be likely to forget Lucius and her reservations and allow herself to be completely and thoroughly seduced by Antonin Dolohov. He'd almost succeeded. She couldn't let it happen again.

Antonin did not return by the time Hermione was ready for bed that night. She'd occupied the hours of the day by cleaning the entire cottage from bottom to top completely without magic. It wasn't exactly as if she had a choice otherwise. So much physical exertion left her body pleasantly sore and after another hot bath, she slipped into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The early morning sun woke her up Sunday morning. She was surprised to find that once again at some point the night before her entire body managed to drift over to Antonin's side of the bed. Her head was rested on the pillow that despite her airing out of the bedroom the day before still smelled strongly of the wizard whose head usually rested upon it. Hermione subconsciously inhaled the scent of the pillow. Antonin always smelled a little bit earthy from his love of puttering about the small garden out back, like fresh flowers and a bit like just cut grass. He was usually respectful enough to cast a few _scourgify_ spells on his shoes and clothing before he entered the cottage again, but there were certain scents that always clung to him. She was surprised how quickly she'd gotten used to him.

Antonin hadn't returned from his summons the morning before. Hermione wasn't exactly worried about him. He was a fully grown wizard. He was certainly capable of taking care of himself. After surviving over fifteen years in Azkaban and two Wizarding Wars as a follower of Lord Voldemort, he knew what he had to do to keep himself from being killed. Her only concern was what would happen to her if he died. He'd proven so far that as long as he was still capable he would protect her from harm. If he died, she was left with a hundred questions with no answers.

Would she be stuck in the cottage permanently if he died or would all of his wards and enchantments cease to work after his death? Would her imprisonment become someone else's responsibility? She was afraid, deathly afraid, of being locked up in Azkaban, but if the alternative was being stuck with Rabastan Lestrange or Walden Macnair as a jailer, she'd prefer the notorious wizard prison. Maybe she would just be executed if Antonin was unable to return. As Harry Potter's only surviving best friend and the woman who murdered a senior Ministry official in icy, cold blood, she was a perfect candidate for a good, old fashioned public execution. Her death would be an entertainment to those who needed a boost in morale and a warning to those still foolish enough to rebel against the new order. She hoped her death would come swiftly in that case, but knowing who would be wielding the wand, she wasn't naïve enough to believe it would be. Voldemort was cruel. He would make her pay for her actions in the past and make her pay simply for her accident of birth.

Hermione forced herself out of the empty bed. She knew that lying around all day worrying about her future, or lack of, would only drive her insane. To keep herself from going the least bit mad, she determined to have a normal day. After a quick shower and a small breakfast, she made her way downstairs to Antonin's study. He was taking too long organizing his books and if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was catalog a library.

His study was completed in late afternoon, so Hermione treated herself to a long, leisurely afternoon nap. By the time she woke up her stomach was growling. She fixed herself dinner, actually finding herself missing the almost silent company she had come to expect at mealtimes. After a rather disappointing meal, Hermione curled up on the living room sofa with a thick book to pass the time away.

On Monday morning, Hermione learned that Antonin had not been lying to her about how uncomfortable the sofa was to sleep on for an extended period of time. She had cramps in her lower back, a stiff neck and limbs that stayed asleep longer than she did. Hermione spent a good portion of the morning soaking in a hot bath in hopes to banish the consequences of a poor night's sleep. The rest of the day was spent tending Antonin's small collection of plants in the garden that were beginning to need attention after several days of neglect. She treated herself to an unusually long shower to clean the dirt and grime off of her body before slipping in to an empty bed early.

By Tuesday she was a bit concerned that Antonin had not returned yet. He'd never been gone for more than a day before. She tried not to worry about her captor. After all, wasn't she supposed to hate him and everything he stood for? Actually wish him dead?

Wednesday morning she was nervous. Where was he? What was going on that kept him from home for four entire days? Was he injured? Dead? Did he have to leave the country again? Maybe he was captured and members of the Resistance were on their way to free her from her quaint prison.

When she woke up alone in bed again on Thursday morning, she burst into tears. She spent the rest of the day alternating between throwing up in the bathroom due to nerves and crying on Antonin's side of the bed.

Friday morning she was determined to find a way out of her prison once and for all. Absolutely appalled and humiliated by her defeated behavior the day before, she resolved to test the boundaries of her cage for a way out. She dressed in comfortable clothes that she could be active in if she was able to escape. Her hair was pulled back in a single braid just how she wore it every day she was on the run.

The first time she tried to pass through the barrier past the back garden gate, she was gently pushed back just as she was on her first morning. She tried to penetrate the barrier a second time and felt a mild shock through her entire body when she made contact. Antonin had not been lying to her when he told her that the responses to attempted escapes would get progressively more painful. She wondered if perhaps it would easier to exit if she tried climbing over the wall where there wasn't a gate. The stone wall was not very tall. Even with a short frame like hers, she was able to climb on the top of the wall simply by climbing in one of the outdoor chairs and stepping up onto the stone. Nothing happened until her foot tried to cross the edge of the stones. She experienced a strong enough shock that she actually fell off the wall, narrowly missing cracking her head open on the edge of the fire pit. Pushing through the front gate was not an option either. The ensuing electric shock from the wards made her cry out in pain. She wasn't going to be able to try much longer. After three more attempts to exit, Hermione finally had to give up due to the pain.

She wondered if the wards would extend to escapes through the sky. A thorough dig through Antonin's possessions in the attic yielded a Nimbus 1500 that had seen better days, but still seemed to have enough power to get her where she needed to go. Ignoring her fear of heights and broomsticks, Hermione mounted his broom and tried to fly out of the garden. The tip of the broomstick bounced against the barrier as if it were made of rubber. She wasn't shocked with this attempt, but the resulting fear of being thrown off of the broomstick made her realize that this was not going to work.

She returned the broomstick to the attic and tried to make another plan that would work. If she were desperate, she could try tunneling under the stone fence. She remembered from a lecture that Professor Flitwick gave about protection charms that some witches and wizards were not thorough enough in their ward casting to prevent tunneling attempts. They did not worry about what might happen under the ground and many paid the price for their ignorance. Hermione knew by instinct, however, that Antonin would not have forgotten to completely encompass his property. It would take days, possibly weeks, to tunnel under the wall with only the simple tools she had anyway.

Hermione could not get to sleep Friday night. She was scared. Terrified that she would die alone and forgotten in Antonin's cottage. Where was he? How could he leave her alone for so long with no notice? No word at all letting her know that he was all right. She tossed and turned in bed all night, only managing to fall into a restless sleep some time around dawn. When she woke up around noon on Saturday she didn't even bother to get dressed. There did not seem to be a point. Brushing her teeth was almost more than she was willing to do, but she could almost hear her parents admonish her from the grave about her dental hygiene practices.

She wasted hours lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. None of Antonin's books sounded the least bit interesting. There wasn't a Muggle television or a Wizarding Wireless to keep her entertained either. She spent the rest of the day taking short naps and waking up to worry about what her life was going to be like from now on. How long was it going to last? Would it hurt?

A loud _crack!_ woke her up some time after dark. She jumped up from the sofa in one swift motion and before her mind registered what she was doing, she had the front door open. Antonin stood just outside the front door dressed in dark robes that were ripped in several places. Hermione felt her feet leaving the ground before she was aware that she was throwing her entire body into Antonin's waiting arms. She almost knocked the wind out of him with her unexpected embrace. Once he was aware of what was happening, he wrapped his strong arms around her back to comfort the sobbing witch.

"It's all right, _daragaya_. I'm back," he spoke directly into her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione pushed herself out of his arms when he opened his mouth. She glared up at the Death Eater and slapped his face with all of her limited strength. After the initial shock of the violence against his person, Antonin growled at her and grabbed both of her arms in his hands to keep her from striking him again.

"You left me!" she screamed. "You left me and I didn't know where you were or if you were coming back!"

Antonin pulled her back to his chest and held her while she cried again. She was so relieved to no longer be alone that she was sure she would've hugged Lord Voldemort himself if he'd randomly appeared out of thin air to the front door. Antonin held her gently, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words in both Russian and English into her hair. Hermione let him comfort her. She'd been so scared to be stuck there by herself. Part of her feared she would live the rest of her life without seeing another person again.

"I was all alone," she cried, her voice cracking.

"I'm so sorry."

When she burst into a fresh round of tears, Antonin picked her up and carried her inside to the sofa. Hermione let him continue to rub her back for several more minutes until she calmed down.

"I tried to get back sooner," he assured her after a while when her sobs downgraded to almost silent whimpers. "I've been worried about you stuck here."

Hermione lifted up her red eyes to examine his face closer. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt. Dark bags were under both of his eyes. A fresh gash across his left cheek still looked tender. There were scorch marks all over his clothes. She wasn't sure what he had been doing in the past week, but it was certainly more harrowing and difficult than just sitting around a cottage worrying. Suddenly she felt embarrassed by her reaction to his return.

She wasn't sure what made her do it. Maybe it was relief that she wasn't by herself. Maybe it was because she was thankful that at least for a little while she wouldn't be brutally murdered. Maybe she was genuinely happy to see him again. Whatever the cause, Hermione met Antonin's darkening eyes with hers and in a complete reversal of every other time that they kissed previously, Hermione was the one initiating the embrace. Antonin was as surprised as she was by her actions, but soon got over it. He hauled Hermione across the couch. She sat in his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, and kissed him like she was now the one possessed.

She placed her hands on his waist and he winced. Sensing his discomfort she pushed herself back to look down at him. Antonin was trying to hide the pain, but she had some experience being around overly confident males nursing injuries. Despite his protestations, she removed herself from his lap to sit next to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gently pushing him away as he tried to kiss her again.

"Nothing serious," he answered, undeterred in his quest to recapture her lips.

"Stop." She pushed him away again. "What's wrong?"

Antonin sighed.

"The healers said I cracked a couple of ribs," he answered. "Should be fine in a few days. Just need to rest."

"Healers? Where were you?" She wanted him to answer her questions, but he seemed to be avoiding any mention of just where in the hell he spent the last _week_.

"There was a battle."

He didn't provide any details before rising from the sofa. There was a fresh bottle of fire whiskey next to the fireplace that he had his eye on. He took two glasses down from the shelf on the wall above the table, set them down on the table and poured a liberal amount of whiskey into each glass. Handing one to Hermione, he raised his in the air to toast.

"To you."

He downed the entire contents of the glass in one swallow. Hermione followed suit. When he saw her glass was empty, he placed it back on the table next to his to fill it up again. Their second tumbler full was drunk a little slower than the first. Antonin lit the fireplace. He sat down next to Hermione, his eyes on the fire and his free hand resting lightly on her thigh.

"There was a battle," he repeated again after several quiet minutes. "A lot of people died."

Hermione's stomach dropped. What did he mean? Who died? She wondered not _if_ she knew any of the dead, but how _many_. If Antonin was gone for an entire week, it must have been brutal.

"Were you fighting the entire time?" she asked, scared to know the answers to the questions swirling around in her head.

"No, I was in St. Mungo's for a few days. I made them release me this evening. I was worried about you."

His eyes left the fire to fall on her face. She felt exposed, embarrassed by her actions earlier when he arrived home.

"Where was the battle?"

"Azkaban."

Hermione would've been less surprised to hear that the moon was the site of the battle. Azkaban? The fortress was impenetrable guarded by hundreds of dementors who were more than pleased with their place in Voldemort's regime.

"We were tipped off that there would be an attempted break out," he explained, staring again at the fire. "Laid in wait for two solid days waiting for something to happen. Finally on Monday night around midnight the rebels attacked. There were planned explosions all over the area. Several holes were created in the walls of the prison. Very effective and impressive explosions."

There was no question in Hermione's mind who was responsible for the timed explosions. George Weasley had been blowing up anything he could since he was a small child. And knowing that his father was locked in the bowels of the fearsome prison, Hermione was positive that George was right there in the thick of the fighting. Her stomach began to twist and turn further. Did he survive?

"I've never seen so many patronuses at one time," Antonin continued between sips. "It was a veritable zoo of every kind of animal you can possibly imagine. When the explosions ripped through the prison, all of the dementors came out to see what happened. That's when the patronuses were released. Knocked every single dementor back hundreds of meters from the prison.

"Once the dementors were away from the prison, dozens, maybe even hundreds, of witches and wizards flew into the holes in the building on broomsticks. There was a large force left behind on the mainland and located in boats near the coast that were keeping the Dark Lord's forces busy. We were dueling so fiercely with those left on the ground that we couldn't get near the prison. You cannot imagine how organized this all was. Almost as if they had blueprints and plans of the prison itself. In no time, they were flying out of the prison with one or two prisoners on the back of their brooms. The prison has been overcrowded since the end of the war. There were lots of prisoners inside. I don't know if they got everyone out or not. Everything happened so quickly we couldn't stop them."

"What happened to you? How did you get hurt?"

"Lucius."

He didn't elaborate. Simply stood up from the sofa and poured himself a third glass of whiskey. Hermione did not know what to say in response to his revelation. She wasn't exactly surprised to hear that Lucius had been there where the fighting was harshest. That sounded like him. She wanted to know if he was okay, if Lucius managed to survive the fighting without getting hurt, but she didn't think it was an appropriate question to ask.

"Seems Lucius has a bit of an issue with me," he scoffed. "Can't imagine why."

"What did he do to you?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he didn't kill me."

His tone was bitter. He emptied his glass and started to fill it up again. Hermione was a little nervous being alone with a heavily intoxicated Antonin. She wasn't sure what to expect from him.

"Not that he didn't try. If it wasn't for Yaxley, he likely would have succeeded."

"What did Yaxley do?"

Antonin laughed and Hermione was reminded why it was that she was so frightened of this man in the past. He was dangerous. Her entire body erupted in goose bumps at the sound of his cackle.

"Did you know that women are biologically programmed to develop feelings for their captors?"

Whatever Hermione was expecting Dolohov to say in response to her question, that certainly wasn't it. Feeling ill at ease, she began to choke down the whiskey remaining in her glass. Antonin summoned her empty glass with his wand. When it crashed down on the table, he refilled it and banished it back to her.

"There have been numerous studies done throughout the history of time. When women were taken from their homes during raids by marauders or won following battles, they resisted initially, but it usually did not take long before the vast majority of the women began to develop feelings for their kidnappers. Began to sympathize with them. Even began to love them in some instances. Like the Sabine women during the early days of the Roman Empire or the white women who were stolen by the Native American tribes and refused to be reintegrated into society once they were found."

Hermione could not figure out what he was trying to tell her. Why wouldn't he answer her question about Yaxley? What happened? The alcohol was already surging through her blood stream, but she continued to drink. It gave her something to occupy her mind with when all she really wanted to do was slap Antonin until he told her what she wanted him to. Ordinarily she was fascinated by history. This, however, was not the time.

"Muggles call it Stockholm Syndrome. Something about a bank, I think. I don't really remember the details."

"What are you trying to say, Antonin?"

"I've been wondering if I caught you in Inverness… if _I_ was the one who took you that night instead of Lucius… Would I be the one that you were in love with?"

His deep brown eyes threatened to burn a hole in her head. She kept her eyes down focused on her glass. It was an interesting theory. Certainly she never would have fallen in love with Lucius if it hadn't been for extreme circumstances. Technically she could have left the manor any time that she wanted, but practically speaking, she was his captive. Was there something to Antonin's theory? Antonin stalked over to the sofa. Hermione still refused to look at him until he placed a firm hand under her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.

"Maybe you would have loved me."

He released his hold on her chin and turned away. The empty glass in his hand crashed to the floor in a shower of shards. He began removing his tattered clothes as he walked towards the bedroom, dropping them as he went.

"Yaxley struck him with multiple spells. He crawled away, but I would be very surprised if your precious Lucius was still alive."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

" _Maybe you would have loved me."_

Antonin's words echoed through Hermione's brain, bouncing from one side to the other. She remained seated on the living room sofa long after she heard Antonin shut the shower off and long after she heard the tiniest squeak from the bed springs indicating he was in bed. His last sentence he spoke as he exited the room was too raw, too fresh for her to dwell on. Later, much later when the shock wore off she would think about the possibility that Lucius was dead.

 _What could Antonin have possibly meant?_ She wondered. His eyes had been so full of pain and the smallest bit of humiliation when he made his confession. Was he right though? If the situation were different, if Lucius hadn't been in Inverness to protect her from being captured so many months earlier, would she have fallen in love with Antonin? It was certainly an interesting theory if one didn't understand the details of her relationship with Lucius, of course. Her feelings for Lucius were more than just a by-product of her forced captivity in his home.

 _Or are they?_ Hermione began reflecting on the entirety of the previous four or so months spent at Malfoy Manor. When she first arrived, she was reluctant and begged Kingsley to take her anywhere else. The last place on Earth she wanted to be was the place where Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her, carved up her arm and offered her as a sacrifice to the werewolf she was able to kill at the Battle for Hogwarts. Too late to save Lavender, however. Lucius had been unpleasant to start with. Being alone for so long changed him every bit as much as being alone changed her. It wasn't until she shared several bottles of wine with him over the next several days that there was any kind of change between them. Of course when was alcohol ever a good option to bond over?

Hermione rose from the sofa and refilled her glass with more of the harsh liquor that she was certain was burning a hole in her stomach. Everyone else got drunk when they were upset. Why couldn't she?

Lucius made her sympathize with him for the first time after hearing how he was forced to torture his wife and son before watching Draco cast the final Killing Curse on his own mother. Then when he told her about his daughter she thought her heart would shatter with the weight of his pain. Emotions were always on such high alert between them. Nothing about their entire relationship felt normal. They only kissed for the first time after she was almost raped for god's sake! The adrenaline and raw magic of their first intimate night together set an unrealistic standard for their relationship. Every sense was heightened. Had they ever had a boring day together? A normal day where nothing exciting happened and they did not experience fear at least once? No, they hadn't.

Hermione was once so certain that she loved Lucius, that she was _in love_. A few words from Antonin threw everything she thought she knew in doubt. They were both so lonely and so desperate for any kind of human interaction when she moved to the manor. There didn't seem to be any other explanation for why they clung so fiercely to each other. If they'd run into each other after a peaceful end to the war in a coffee shop or a bookstore, she would have avoided him at all cost. Lucius Malfoy would've been one of the last people in this world she would've willingly sought out. Their entire relationship suddenly seemed like a farce.

Not that it likely would matter in the long run. She was stuck, a "guest" of Antonin's for the foreseeable future. Lucius was likely dead according to her current jailer. Hermione wasn't entirely certain that he was. Wouldn't she feel it if Lucius was dead? Hermione groaned in frustration. Sometimes she was naïve enough to sicken herself. This wasn't some fantastical, bodice-ripper (though Lucius would look smashing on the cover) where the opposites attract with such a ferocity that they were forever in tuned with the other's emotions and well-being.

Reality was messy. The hero sometimes lost in reality. Look at Harry. He was the "Chosen One". He was supposed to vanquish the Dark Lord, not smash his head open on the stones of the Great Hall. The greatest love stories did not always end in happiness and then again some of the happiest love stories were simply ordinary. Grandparents spending sixty-five years married to the same person and still in love. Grade school sweethearts marrying their first and only loves. Like the Weasleys. Molly and Arthur were deeply in love since they were in school together. If Molly hadn't been murdered and the war was over, they could've easily lived out a boring, predictable, wonderful life together watching grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow. No poems or songs or tragic plays would've been written about them, but they would've died with their family by their side and with a tearful smile on their face.

Lucius couldn't be dead, she convinced herself. He was too stubborn, too practiced at covering his own arse to be put down in a battle by a wizard as ordinary as Yaxley. Antonin could've killed him. Bellatrix certainly. Lord Voldemort in a heartbeat. Not Yaxley. Lucius had to have survived. She resolved not to give up the tiny shred of hope she was still clinging to.

Hermione emptied another glass and despite knowing she would pay dearly for it later, she took the bottle of whiskey off the table. She didn't even bother pouring another glass. After a couple more pulls directly from the bottle itself, her body began to feel pleasantly numb.

"Mind if I join you?"

Hermione held the bottle out to the wizard who had just rejoined her, the universal invitation to join. Antonin plucked the bottle out of her hand as he settled himself down next to her on the sofa. After a long drink from the bottle, he handed it back.

"It's your house," she said. "You don't need my permission to drink your own booze. If anything, I should be asking yours."

"You are welcome to anything of mine," he replied.

"Good. Good, because I've decided to get thoroughly pissed tonight."

Antonin chuckled at her admission. They sat in silence for a long time starting at the flames dancing in the fireplace and passing the bottle back and forth.

"I couldn't sleep," he finally admitted.

"I'm not surprised," she said.

"My body is exhausted, but my mind isn't aware it is bedtime."

"Then stay here with me," Hermione said, offering him the bottle again. "Let's drink until we forget how to think."

Antonin swallowed more whiskey, but did not hand the bottle back immediately. Hermione stared at the fire, willing herself to see whatever it was that her companion always seemed to find in the flames. Her head grew a bit heavy for her neck after a little while. Without asking for permission, she hooked her right arm through Antonin's left and laid her head down on his shoulder. Antonin tensed slightly at the initial contact, but soon settled back down with a small grin on his lips.

"Have you ever been married?"

Hermione's question surprised both of them. She didn't know why she was suddenly interested in personal questions. Neither did Antonin. With the exception of a very short conversation once about his great-grandfather, Hermione had never been interested in finding out more about his past. He'd assumed she was frightened to learn about his misdeeds and actions. She was right to be frightened.

"No, I've never been married," he answered. "I was engaged once when I was just out of Hogwarts. One of the Selwyn girls. My father arranged the match."

"You didn't pick her?"

"I was given the option between two sisters: the older, more serious one with brown hair or the younger, sillier one with blonde hair."

"You picked the older one."

Antonin laughed.

"Yes, I did. In my experience, the silly blonde girls were vapid and prone to irrational fits of jealousy."

"Mine too," she giggled thinking about several girls she'd known from school. "Did you love her?"

"No, I hardly knew her."

Antonin pilled on the bottle again and handed it to Hermione. They both needed a little more liquid courage to keep their discussion going.

"What happened to her? Why did you never marry her?'

"Her father broke off the agreement when he learned of my unfortunate blood status."

Hermione sat back up after hearing his response.

"What do you mean by your 'unfortunate blood status'?"

"Mr. Selwyn did not appreciate the fact that my mother had Muggle parents."

"Your mother was Muggle-born? But… but you're a…"

"Death Eater," he answered for her. "Despite what my comrades might prance around and tell everyone, the overwhelming majority of us are half bloods.'

His words weren't exactly a shock. After all, Lord Voldemort was the bastard son of a Muggle who hated his mother. Why he was a supporter of so-called blood purity was beyond Hermione. Only the witches and wizards who'd spent generations intermarrying to a sometimes dangerous degree were "Purebloods".

"So your father didn't try to arrange another marriage for you after that?"

"No, unfortunately he passed away soon after the engagement was called off. The damage was done. He wanted an alliance with one of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight" families. When that didn't happen, he tried to find me a Russian bride, but my mother told him 'no'."

"Why?"

"She always wanted me to marry for love like she did."

Their discussion stalled once more. Hermione continued to take smaller and smaller sips of whiskey from the bottle despite the fact that she was well aware that she was already very drunk. Antonin's arm snaked around the back of her waist pulling her head back to his shoulder. She didn't fight the embrace. She didn't want to. The more time she spent alone with Antonin Dolohov, the more comfortable she was around him.

"You love you mother very much." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, she was a wonderful woman."

"If you love your mother so much, how can you hate other Muggle-borns?"

Antonin tightened his grip on her waist ever so slightly. He turned to meet her eyes with his.

"I do not hate Muggle-borns," he replied. "I would think that was obvious to you by now."

"Then why did you become what you are? Why follow You-Know-Who if not because you want all Muggle-borns dead?" She could feel tears prickle her eyes and she willed herself to calm down.

"I have always hated Muggles," he answered. "While my vehemence has tempered as I've gotten older, I still believe that the natural order should include wizards at the top. We shouldn't live a life afraid of dirty Muggles figuring out we exist. We should rule over them."

"But your Muggle grandparents…"

"My Muggle grandparents thought they could beat the magic out of my mother. When they learned that wouldn't work, they dragged my mother to a nearby stream to drown her."

Hermione gasped.

"They believed she was possessed by some kind of demon and that the only way to save her soul was to kill her."

"What happened?"

"My father saved her life. He and his family lived a short distance away. He knew my mother was a witch when they were small children. He was always watching her. When my grandparents tried to hold my mother underwater, he saved her by killing her parents."

"That is an awful story," she said between even more sips of alcohol.

"Yes, well, in some parts of the world, Muggles are more of a threat to Muggle-borns than overly proud Purebloods."

Hermione had honestly never considered the danger that Muggles could do to her fellow witches and wizards. Rita Skeeter's book about Professor Dumbledore popped into her head and she remembered the true version that Aberforth told about why their father was sent to Azkaban. Muggles almost killed their younger sister just because she was different than they were. In regards to Muggles, Hermione had always been fairly fortunate in her experience. Even when her magic began to manifest itself in somewhat unnerving ways when she was young, no one, especially not her own parents, ever tried to harm her.

"Tell me about your mother," Hermione asked, snuggling back down on his shoulder.

"She went to live with my father's grandmother after that. She was only nine years old. Witches didn't usually go away to school back then in that part of Russia. My father went off to Durmstrang and she stayed behind to learn from my grandmother. She wished she could've gone to Hogwarts, but she spoke almost no English. Even with an accelerated language program, she would've been too far behind.

"She was a very talented and powerful witch. Even my father would admit that she was stronger than he could ever hope to be. She had a real natural talent, like you have."

He smiled down at the sleepy, drunk woman in his arms.

"You remind me a lot of her," he said before grimacing. "Not in a tragic, Greek play kind of way. I did _not_ want to have sex with my mother."

Antonin's cheeks flamed red and Hermione could not stop herself from giggling. He took a large drink from the bottle before laughing too.

"When did your family move here?" she asked wanting to keep the conversation going. It helped keep her mind off of thoughts she wasn't ready to have yet.

"Before I was born. Mum wanted me to be born here. She always put my needs before hers. Even though she was miserable here she never once considered moving back."

"Why was she miserable?"

"She was very lonely," he answered. "She never spoke the language very well no matter how much she practiced. She used to get very upset with me for speaking Russian. The wives of my father's business associates and friends looked down on her. She had a very hard time of it after my father died. She only lasted a couple of years after he died."

"I'm very sorry."

Antonin kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you. At least it spared her the shame of seeing her only child taken off to Azkaban."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to that so she didn't say a word. If there was ever a man who could appreciate a silence, it was Antonin Dolohov. After several minutes of a comfortable stillness, Hermione felt her eyes begin to droop. Antonin banished the almost empty bottle of whiskey before pulling her body into his arms in an exact replica of the first night she spent in the cottage. This time, however, Hermione merely snuggled in closer to his chest and let him take her to bed without even a hint of a struggle.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling like death would be a welcome change in her life. Part of her wanted to seek out Lord Voldemort himself in order to put an end to the suffering she was experiencing. Her head was pounding with a fury and the light coming through the open window felt like needles in her eyes. She pulled the bedcovers over her head and groaned. A soft chuckle sounded behind her and she felt soft lips on her head.

"You're a wizard," she snapped, annoyed at the pain coursing through her entire body. "Can't you put out the bloody sun?"

Antonin transfigured the sheer window coverings to much darker curtains that blocked all light from the room. It seemed almost as dark as nighttime. Hermione mumbled her thanks, but did not pull the covers off of her head. Antonin simply joined her underneath the covers. His arms wrapped around her to pull her close to him.

"Why did you let me drink so much?" she asked, keeping her voice no louder than a whisper. "Aren't you supposed to be my protector?"

"I did not keep hold of my bollocks for as many years as I have by stepping between a determined witch and her alcohol."

"You still have my wand. It's not like I could hex them off."

"No, but there's still a lot of damage that can be done with hands and teeth."

Hermione was annoyed and Antonin's teasing did not help. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but between his superior strength and her weakened state, she wasn't able to move at all. Her attempts, however, made Antonin laugh.

"You drank just as much as I did," she snapped. "How are you not feeling as horrible as I am?"

"Well, Hermione, I have at least seven stone on you and more years of experience drinking than you have living."

"Patronizing, fat, old man."

He laughed again before getting out of bed. Hermione grumbled at the shaking of the mattress. She was certain that it was possible to die of a hangover. Antonin returned to the bed from the bathroom only a few moments later. At the risk of possible bite marks to his arms, he gently pulled Hermione up to a seated position with her back up against the headboard for support. He climbed into the bed next to her and handed her a small potion vial.

"Cheers," he said, clinking their glass vials together before downing his in one swallow.

Hermione finished hers in a few chugs. It wasn't an unpleasant taste to her relief. It tasted like cinnamon. Immediately she felt relief course through her entire body. The nausea disappeared. Her headache was gone.

"Oh, thank you, Antonin. I could kiss you."

His mouth was on hers before she even registered what she'd just said to him. Antonin was insistent in his attentions. His lips were soft and gentle. Unlike the other kisses they'd shared in the past, he seemed to be in no hurry to escalate his ministrations. He was content to slowly, sensually kiss the witch lying in his bed. Hermione got over the initial shock of his kiss fairly quickly. She gave herself over to the sensations and allowed the man to continue his caresses. Antonin gently pulled Hermione's body down so she was again lying on her back instead of being seated. She hardly even noticed the change in position. His lips pushed her mouth open and for a few moments, she could focus on nothing else but the faint cinnamon taste of his tongue.

Antonin's hands moved from her face down to the sides of her body. He began to alternate fierce kisses to her mouth with kisses up and down both sides of her jawline. Hermione kept her eyes closed in an attempt to forget for a little while who she was with. It was easier with the dark curtains drawn to pretend that she was once again back at the manor with Lucius doing delicious things with his mouth. She was so focused on pretending that she did not notice as Antonin's hand began to deftly unbutton each of the buttons on her pajama top. In mere moments, he was pushing the open shirt off of her shoulders, revealing her bare chest completely. He rose up a few inches on his elbows to gaze down at her body.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he whispered, moving his mouth from her ear down her neck.

Hermione shivered when his hands touched her bare waist. Antonin wasn't in any hurry and for that, she was grateful. Too much too soon would send her running. She kept her hands light in his hair, ready to stop him if needed. Antonin's mouth trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone. His tongue flicked out of his mouth and caught the edge of a long scar that crossed her body. He stopped what he was doing with his mouth to touch the scar with the tips of his fingers. Slowly he traced the entire scar that started from her left shoulder, across the top of her left breast, between her breasts, across the middle of her stomach until it disappeared just above her right hipbone. Over time it had grown less noticeable, but it would never completely go away.

"I did this."

Hermione couldn't respond beyond more than just a nod of her head. Her throat was thick with emotion as she went back in time to that horrible night when the man touching her tried to kill her in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Tears fell out of the corners of her eyes remembering her fear in the Department of Mysteries. Antonin began to place the lightest of kisses down the entire length of her scar. It was tender and just a bit surreal. By the time his lips brushed against the end of her scar at her hip, Hermione was angry.

She pushed the wizard off of her body and jumped off of the bed, narrowly missing kicking him in the face as she did so. Hermione pulled her shirt back on, buttoning it up as she stomped to the bathroom. Antonin was still lying on the bed completely confused by the sudden change in circumstances. The loud slam of the bathroom door brought him back to reality. Hermione was hardly three steps in before Antonin threw the door back open.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed.

"What just happened? What is wrong, Hermione?"

"Get out!"

She put her hands on his chest and tried to push him out. Antonin grabbed both of her wrists and threw her arms off of him. Hermione wanted to be alone. She didn't want to see his face and couldn't understand why he was refusing to leave the room.

"Hermione, I'm not leaving until you tell me what is wrong."

"I don't want to look at you right now. Please leave!"

She was angrier than she had been in a long time. All she wanted was five minutes to herself where she didn't have to look at him. Five minutes where she could just be alone. _Why won't he leave me alone?_ She couldn't bear to spend another moment with him. He was making it too easy to forget Lucius. Making it too easy to forget who she was and who he was. She needed to be alone so she could remember how much she hated him.

"Hermione…" Antonin placed a soft hand on her elbow that she immediately shrugged off.

"I don't want to see you right now. Please leave me alone!"

In a move similar to the night before when she was both relieved and angry when he finally returned, she slapped him across his face as hard as she could. She could see the confusion and the rage bubbling up under the surface of his usual calm demeanor. Briefly she thought she could understand what the many victims of his past saw before he decided to torture them.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" she screamed. "Why can't you just let me go?"

"Because I love you," he said, desperation dripping from every syllable.

"Ha!" She laughed though there was no joy in the shrill sound exiting her mouth. "Love? You don't even know how to spell 'love'. Your mind was fucked up long ago. Fucked up and warped with every single innocent person you tortured and murdered. You don't have the capacity."

She tried to run from him, get even the tiniest amount of distance between their riled bodies, but what he lacked in the capacity to feel emotions he more than made up for in brute physicality. His hand latched itself onto her wrist with a force that threatened to crack the gentle bones in her deceptively fragile arm. Hermione gasped in pain. He did not relent.

"You're hurting me," she said in a whisper, her earlier bravado almost completely absent.

"You're hurting me," Antonin replied. His tone was of cool, collected desperation, oozing with a confidence that those who did not know him would believe was genuine. "I do feel pain."

She attempted the futile act of shrugging his grasp off of her person. In their entire acquaintance, bar the one evening where he actively tried to murder her and then the other when he tried to subdue her and her two closest friends in a coffee shop, he had never laid a hand on her to cause pain. His desire was to only touch her with the determined passion he'd longed for all of those many months dreaming of her from his bitter, cold cell and those lonely months tracking her around the country. Antonin gazed down at his hand around her wrist, bruising, crushing, reddening, and did not recognize his own appendage. Had it really come to this moment? One moment of intense anger and the bruised ego of a wizard who could kill and maim with cold deliberation one moment and then wither under her gaze like a fifth year working up the courage to finally ask the girl of his dreams to Madam Puddifoot's the next had brought him to the place where he longed to rip her throat out using only his teeth and then make passionate love to her until neither of them could remember their own names.

"Release me." Her command was in a quivering whisper and he chose to ignore her authority.

"You are mine."

"No!"

"You are my witch. No one else's."

He released her wrist before pulling her entire body flush to his with a possessiveness that made her both nervous and exhilarated. His mouth sought hers and he would allow no rejection. Hermione allowed herself to be swept up in the intensity of the moment, her anger temporarily forgotten.

"Are you going to calm down now?" Antonin asked, several minutes later.

She didn't respond to his question. Simply pushed him out of her way and exited the room.

* * *

Hermione hid in the cellar for the rest of the day. Based on the sounds she could hear upstairs, Antonin spent his day in his garden and walking down at the beach. She was thankful that he left her alone especially after the irrational behavior she had been exhibiting earlier. Why had she gotten so angry with him? She couldn't be sure entirely, but for whatever reason, she couldn't stand his hands and mouth being on her body for another moment.

She tried to lose herself in a book. It had been her go to coping mechanism since she learned how to read. If she had a question, she had always been able to find the answer within the covers of a volume. If she was upset, she could usually find comfort reading. Disgusted with the book about Mediterranean plants she had tried and failed to read for over an hour, Hermione threw it across the room.

 _If I had only insisted that Lucius take me to Liverpool with him, none of this would've happened. Rabastan could've come that night and brought Isla, but Lucius would have never allowed Antonin to leave the manor with me. We could've spent the last two weeks hiding together. Maybe even fighting together. I wouldn't be stuck here wandless and helpless with a wizard who wants nothing but a good shag!_

She was certain that it was her fault that Lucius was potentially dead. He'd taken her into his manor when she was in need of a hiding place. Worse than that, he'd actually developed feelings for her that he never should have. His manor was only supposed to be a temporary place for her to recoup her strength before heading back out to aid the Resistance in any way that she could. She'd allowed him to keep her because it was so wonderful to feel safe and protected by a powerful wizard. She didn't want to go out into the scariness of the world by herself again. Nine months were hard enough.

It was her fault. It was all her fault. Lucius wouldn't have put himself in the position to get himself injured if he wasn't determined to find her. He knew Antonin would be fighting at the Battle of Azkaban. He knew he would be there and his intent was to kill Antonin or at the very least find out where he was keeping her. If Hermione never allowed herself to open up her heart to Lucius, he would probably be curled up on his study sofa right now reading a book while Cassius and Sophie slept in front of the fireplace.

If only she'd left when the manor before she was discovered. As soon as she knew that Rabastan was coming around to visit because of who he thought she was, she should've insisted that another safe house be found for her. She was responsible for Lucius being injured, possibly dead.

At some point in her thinking about the potential "what ifs" and what she would do or give up for another chance to save Lucius, she fell asleep on the sofa. She had been experiencing extreme emotions for over a week. Coupled with the large amount of alcohol she consumed the night before, she could use some sleep. When she finally felt a pressure on her shoulder gently urging her awake, the room was almost completely dark.

"Dinner is ready, if you're hungry."

Antonin didn't wait for her to follow him back up the stairs. Hermione watched him disappear to the ground floor before she made the decision to leave her hiding place. Or rather her growling stomach made the decision for her. She found Antonin already seated at the table eating. He kept his eyes firmly on his plate and did not say a word to her as she filled up her plate.

"If you had died, what would have happened to me?" she finally asked about ten minutes in the meal.

Antonin dropped his fork onto his plate. He pushed his chair back a few inches before looking across the table at his dinner companion. Hermione felt her cheeks flush with the intense gaze.

"I was afraid that I would be stuck here forever if you were dead," she added.

"If something were to happen to me, this cottage would immediately transfer its ownership and allegiance to you."

"To me?"

"Yes, the wards would recognize you as the new owner."

She held up her left hand with the ever present silver bracelet catching the light.

"And what about this?"

"All enchantments that I placed around this cottage would expire on my death, including the one on your bracelet. It would dissolve and you would no longer be confined to the grounds."

"So you are telling me that if you were to die, I would not only own your cottage, but I would be free to go?"

"Yes."

"You don't have some backup Death Eater planned to be my new jailer."

"There is not a single wizard I've ever known that I would trust your care to, _daragaya._ You would be free to live your life as you saw fit. You could leave the country or join the rebels. It would be your decision. I would be dead."

Antonin rose from the table.

"If you will excuse me, I am being summoned again."

* * *

Loud footsteps on the ceiling above her woke Hermione up the next morning. She was initially confused by what she was hearing. Quiet voices above her head told her that someone was up in the attic, two somebodies. She rose from the empty bed to dress for the day.

She found Antonin up in the attic with Greg discussing potential ideas for what to do to the space. Greg smiled when he saw her join them. Antonin could hardly meet her eyes. Too much had happened the day before to make any kind of interactions between the two of them easy.

"Good morning, Hermione," Greg greeted, oblivious to the awkwardness hanging in the air.

"Good morning, Greg," she answered back. "I'll just head back downstairs."

She caught Greg mouth the word 'lunch' behind Antonin's back before she left. It wasn't until she was at the bottom of the stairs that she realized Antonin was right behind her. She turned around unexpectedly and crashed against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning towards the kitchen.

Antonin stopped her with a gentle brush of his hand on her arm.

"I didn't hear you come in last night," Hermione said, unable to meet his eyes.

"It was very late. I fell asleep on the couch downstairs."

"You could've come to bed. You shouldn't be forced to sleep on an uncomfortable couch simply because I've made you uncomfortable."

Antonin ran his right hand through her impossible curls before dropping the lightest of kisses on her forehead.

"I'm going to go for a walk," he announced. "And then make a trip to London. I'll be back later."

She watched him exit the front door and waited for the crack of Apparition before she went to the kitchen to rifle through Greg's lunch bag. There were several editions of the Daily Prophet under his sandwich as well as a smaller newspaper she'd never seen before. She tucked them under her shirt and locked herself in the bathroom.

Most of the papers covered the events leading up to and immediately after the battle at Azkaban. There was not a lot of valuable information. It was mostly made up of Ministry propaganda. Hardly worth using for kindling in the fireplace. The small newspaper that Greg slipped in with the others was interesting. She could tell immediately that it was unsanctioned. Titled after the popular radio program during the Second Wizarding War, Potterwatch, was now in print form.

The newspaper gave actual facts about the battle that the Ministry was trying to keep quiet. It was quite interesting. Hermione wondered how on Earth Greg was able to get a copy. No doubt it was a punishable offense to even own a copy. The last page was a list of the casualties from the battle. Hermione took a deep breath before she started to read. Familiar names popped out of her from the Deaths section: Augusta Longbottom, Ryan Sloane, Seamus Finnegan, and about a dozen or so names she knew belonged to parents and siblings of other DA members. She felt numb reading each name. The Missing section was even harder to read because she knew that there would be a very familiar name on it. Lucius Malfoy was listed at the top. A short article was included urging all members of the reading public to keep an eye out for the missing Resistance members and to provide aid if at all possible.

Hermione couldn't read anymore. There was too much death and sadness. She crumpled up the papers and threw them under her sink with all of the others. With tears streaming down her face, she kicked off her shoes and crawled back under the covers of the bed. She must have cried herself to sleep.

A dark depression fell over her for weeks following the confirmation that Antonin had not been lying to her about Lucius being injured and possibly dead. She no longer could even keep up the pretense of a hope that Lucius survived. Antonin gave her her space, not even once trying to kiss her again or pull her close to him while they slept. Entire days passed where not a single word passed between the two.

* * *

When the beginning of July brought unseasonably warm temperatures to the area, Hermione forced herself to exit the cottage one morning. Antonin was seated in one of the outdoor chairs by the fire pit engrossed in a book about garden pests. She walked up behind Antonin, watching him for a moment. He could be so peaceful when he was reading. It was easy to forget at times who he really was. Forget the pain he'd caused her and those she loved.

Hermione put her hands on his shoulders, surprising him for just a moment. He looked up at her and the first true smile she'd seen on his face since the morning after she learned that Lucius was probably dead crossed his face. Certainly no additional information about his whereabouts or condition had been discovered in all of that time. She couldn't help but return the smile.

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning, Antonin."

She leaned down and placed a light kiss on his mouth. His smile returned, happy that she finally seemed to want to move forward with her life.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

Hermione had a plan. She was exhausted of lying around Antonin's cottage feeling sorry for herself, wishing her life would change. The possibility of someone else rescuing her from her dismal existence was a slim chance and growing slimmer every passing day. If she wanted to get out, she would have to do it herself. It wouldn't be easy, but when had she ever backed down from a difficult challenge?

Antonin was going to be her biggest obstacle. The man was too damn smart for his own good in her opinion. While she was grateful that she wasn't stuck with some Neanderthal Death Eater who was too stupid to keep her alive, she wished that Antonin was not nearly as intelligent and perceptive as he was. She was going to have to tread carefully around him if she didn't want her cover blown and him to figure out what she was up to.

Though she had essentially gone through all of the five stages of grief according to Muggle psychiatrists, she still wasn't all that certain that Lucius was dead. He was nothing if not a survivor. Greg had been bringing her newspapers every single day he came to the cottage to work on the second bedroom upstairs in the attic. Sometimes he was even able to smuggle in a copy of the Resistance's newspaper. Every edition still had Lucius listed as 'Missing'. Until the day arrived with the word 'Deceased' next to his name, she refused to give up hope.

Hermione began compiling a list in her mind. She would've loved to commit it all to parchment but that was too risky. If Antonin even had a whiff of suspicion all of her hard work would be for naught. In order for her plan to work, she knew she would have to be patient. She was going to have to perform acts that would churn her stomach and make her wish she was dead, but she could think of no other way. This wasn't going to be easy.

The first thing she had to hurry up and get out of the way was convincing Antonin that she was ready to move on with some kind of future with him. He had to be convinced or this would never work. So on July 5th she swallowed her fear, pushed off the cloak of depression she'd been living under for weeks and stepped outside of the cottage. Like usual on mornings with clear, beautiful weather, Antonin was outside reading yet another book on how to keep his garden growing and free of pests. He was similar to her in a lot of ways. When he was uncomfortable or at a loss how to proceed, he would search for his answers inside a dusty book. It was an attractive quality that on any other man would make her heart beat wildly.

He didn't see her exit the cottage and she was thankful for a few extra moments to steel up her confidence. His eyes never left the page until the moment she placed her hands on his shoulders. She felt him jump slightly at the unexpected contact, but the moment he saw her face behind him his face split into a warm smile. She returned the smile even though she would've rather hexed his face off than grin back at it.

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning, Antonin."

She leaned down and placed a light kiss on his mouth. He smiled again at her when she pulled back. Hermione took a deep breath. Phase One had begun.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked when she sat down in the chair next to his.

"Better," was her only response.

Antonin seemed satisfied by her answer. His eyes fell back to the written word. Hermione gazed at the ocean over the top of the stone wall. Sometimes she forgot how beautiful this place could really be. If it weren't her prison and she was free to go as she pleased, she could see this place being a real comfort and a balm to her soul. The squawking of the seagulls and the crashing of the waves on the beach were sounds she could grow to love and be comforted by.

"It's very peaceful here," she said after long minutes of staring out at the landscape. "It's easy to forget how awful and dangerous the world is outside of these walls sometimes."

Antonin closed his book and looked over in her direction. He had a puzzled expression on his countenance, almost as if he were surprised to hear her speaking.

"Do you really believe the world outside is so terrible?" he asked curious of her response.

Hermione laughed at his question. His eyes shone with the merest flash of hurt before they resumed their usual impassive stare. She almost felt bad about laughing at him. Almost. Was he so blind in his devotion to his beloved Dark Lord that he didn't truly understand the abject peril that everyone else lived in fear of?

"Of course I do," she replied. "What is there for me outside of the safety of these walls? What would happen to me if I was able to stumble outside on my own and completely unprotected?"

"I suppose I can see your point."

"I don't belong in that world, Antonin. Not really sure I ever did. If something were to happen to you, I would be alone, friendless and with a huge target on my back. Dozens of your mates would like nothing more than to catch me, rape me, torture me, and kill me. Thorfinn Rowle is right there at the top of them."

"What about the rebels? Surely you have friends still amongst the rebels."

Hermione covered her eyes and burst into loud, shaking tears. She sat in her chair for an awkwardly long time crying. Antonin reached across to place a reassuring hand on her back. The touch only made her cry harder.

"My former friends are no doubt relieved that they no longer have to worry about me," she finally said, wiping away great, big crocodile tears from her eyes. "I've never really had a lot of friends, Antonin. Just Harry and Ron. Everything would've been much easier if I'd died right alongside them."

"You don't really mean that."

"Yes, I do!" she snapped, forcing hot tears out of her eyes for his viewing pleasure. "When the Resistance found me after Inverness they didn't even know what to do with me. Kingsley told me that everyone assumed I was dead. No one could be bothered to even look for me. Antonin, _you_ were the only one looking for me all that time. My so-called friends and allies just assumed I couldn't survive on my own. They couldn't even bother to find out if I was really dead or locked in some Death Eater's dungeon as some sort of disgusting sex slave!"

She covered her face again to cry more. Antonin's hand continued to pat her back in a rather patronizing attempt to comfort her.

"I don't even know why Lucius cared enough to find me," she continued. "It's not like I was ever anything to him except a filthy, little Mudblood that his son liked to torment in school and a blight to his proud notion of what wizarding kind should be like."

"Lucius has always had an agenda even if no one else is aware of what it is."

"I'm sure Kingsley only made me stay with him because they didn't know what to do with me. Or maybe they hoped that Lucius and I wouldn't get along and we'd rip each other's throats out or something. No doubt they found him just as inconvenient an ally as they found me."

"Lucius seemed to care a great deal about you. He even considered murdering Rabastan at his own party simply because he touched you."

Antonin's tone was bitter, just as it always was any time Lucius' name was brought up.

"Yes, well, even assuming that his feelings for me were genuine and not just a result of two lonely people being locked up in a confined place together, it's not exactly as if it matters anymore. You told me so yourself. Lucius is most likely dead. No one is looking for me out there. No one wants me out there. I have no reason to ever want to leave this place."

Hermione rose from her chair and went back inside the cottage before Antonin had the opportunity to say another word. She closed herself within the locked bathroom to cry a few legitimate tears. Even though she knew there were still people on the outside that loved her and cared about her, it was only too easy for her to believe the words she said out in the garden. At least a grain of truth existed in everything she'd said. At this point in the war, she was more of a burden to the Resistance than anything else. She had nothing to offer her allies and hiding away protected while others did the fighting and dying had its own appeal.

Antonin seemed to believe her when she told him she didn't want to be anywhere else. It was a blatant lie, of course. She wanted to be _anywhere_ else. Even shivering by herself in a tent that smelled strongly of cat urine or even back in the Forbidden Forest with an angry horde of centaurs and hundreds of acromantulas wanting to rip open her soft, creamy, delicious flesh. No matter what, she had to continue to keep him convinced that she didn't want to leave. Phase One would be a complete failure if he discovered she was lying.

Over the next several days Hermione once again allowed herself to ever so slightly move closer to Antonin each morning in their shared bed. He'd welcomed the renewed affections, but hadn't tried to initiate any kind of physical attentions beyond the lightest of kisses occasionally throughout the day. The last thing he wanted was her scared off again and a renewing of the tense standoff they'd experienced since the morning he lavished what must have been an inappropriate amount of attention on her scar. Hermione began to reward his patience with soft touches on his shoulder when he read or with light embraces behind him at the stove while he prepared meals. He was pleased by the tentative affection she bestowed on him for seemingly random reasons.

Every time he returned home from a summons she met him at the front door to take his cloak and welcome him back with tender, short kisses. She would take one look at him and gauge whether or not he needed a cup of tea or a liberal glass of fire whiskey to relax after his meetings with the Dark Lord or his fellow Death Eaters. Once his beverage was secure in his hand she would sit next to him on the sofa and allow him to wrap his free arm around her body in a protective manner while they enjoyed the companionable silence that came naturally to them.

She even learned to bake for him. In the beginning, it was an unmitigated disaster each and every time she tried one of the recipes in the Russian cookbook she found up in the attic. Antonin was patient with her efforts, always willing to try her experiments in the kitchen. She was certain that she couldn't actually kill him with the burnt tea cakes or collapsed apple sharlotka or the partially undercooked piroshky, but it didn't prevent her from secretly hoping that he would keel over after a mouthful of one of her failures. He found her attempts to recreate his mother's dishes endearing and offered her suggestions on how to improve her next batch. Gradually she got better and the cottage began to always smell delicious and homey.

Hermione took charge of all of the rest of the domestic duties inside the cottage. It gave her the chance to keep her hands and her mind occupied. She tried to imagine what Molly Weasley would do if she were living in the cottage. It didn't take long before she had every square inch of the cottage scrubbed and gleaming like new. Every surface was dusted and all of the linens were fresh and clean. All of Antonin's robes and cloak were laundered and pressed. Antonin could hardly recognize the cottage once she began taking care of it. He wondered briefly what caused the sudden change to her domestic sensibilities, but did not linger too long on the wondering. She seemed happy and he did not wish to question anything that made her happy.

She spent a portion of each day directing Greg in how to remodel the attic. Antonin was pleased that she seemed to show interest in expanding and improving the cottage. He deferred all decisions to her. She found it to be interesting work. In only a short period of time, a matter of a couple of weeks, an extra bedroom and bathroom were well on their way to being completed. Greg promised that before the end of August the entire cottage would be finished. The thought of no longer having another person in the cottage, even if it was Gregory Goyle, made Hermione intensely sad. She wasn't ready to give up on her only friend on the outside. As such, she frequently changed her mind about the direction the rooms were going. Just when Greg thought he had everything planned out to her specifications, Hermione inevitably changed her mind and forced him to redesign the entire attic. He might have been frustrated with her if it didn't mean that he could prolong his work assignment.

"You are going to drive poor Greg mad if you keep up what you are doing to him," Antonin teased Hermione one evening as she began cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

"I wasn't happy with what he planned," she answered, scrubbing the dishes with a little more vigor than was completely necessary.

"You've been making him change everything."

"We are going to have to live with his designs for years, Antonin. Do you really want something less than perfect?"

Antonin was behind her before she was aware he had risen from his chair. He pushed the hair off of the back of her neck and lowered his lips to brush up against the sensitive part of her skin underneath her ear. She shivered at the sensation.

"Years, _daragaya_? Do you plan on being here for years?" He whispered his question directly into her ear.

Hermione twisted around to face him.

"Are you planning on throwing me out any time soon?" she asked.

"Of course not."

"Then I'm here for the foreseeable future and want it to be perfect."

Antonin took the plate out of her hands that she was still washing and dropped it into the sink. The crash of the dish breaking into multiple pieces caused Hermione to jump and attempt to turn around to view the damage. His arms snaked around the back of her waist to stop her from moving. For the first time since the morning she slapped him, Antonin kissed her deeply. Initially caught off guard, Hermione froze in place. Remembering her plan to lull the Death Eater into a false sense of security, she allowed herself to respond.

"Your face is hurting mine," she teased him after a couple of minutes.

Antonin laughed and rubbed the thickening hair on his jawline. He was still not in the habit of shaving very often.

"Put the kettle on and sit down at the table," she ordered him before exiting the room.

When she returned a few minutes later, the tea kettle had just started to whistle and Antonin was waiting for her at the kitchen table just as she asked. She poured the boiling water into a bowl, leaving a towel inside to soak. Antonin seemed a little nervous by her hands full of the various shaving utensils he rarely used, but he'd learned enough about her personality to not question her when she had set her mind to something.

Hermione crossed the small kitchen to place the bowl, shaving soap, leather strop and the straight razor on the table. Antonin eyed the apparatuses with a suspicious glare, but still said nothing. She took the soaking towel out of the bowl and carefully so as not to scald herself, wrung out the excess hot water. He made the tiniest hiss when she placed the scorching towel on his face to open up his pores. She removed the towel soon after to prevent any discernable marks of discomfort on his face. When he took the time to shave, he used a wonderful shaving soap that smelled of a delicious mixture of almond and lime. She inhaled a whiff of the soap before dabbing it on generously to all of the parts of Antonin's face that needed some attention. He sat completely still while she massaged the cream over his face.

When she picked up the straight razor to strop it to prepare the edge of the blade, she had the slightest fantasy of using the instrument to nick his neck in just the perfect spot that he would bleed out in moments. She would be free to leave without worry about him coming after her. Naturally the fantasy lasted only a moment. She really did not wish him harm. Antonin had been nothing but kind to her even if he was keeping her hostage in his home without her consent. He continued to watch her as she ran the edge of the blade up and down the leather strop in the X pattern her father taught her when she was younger.

Once she was satisfied with the condition of the razor, Hermione began to pull the skin of Antonin's face carefully with one hand while she ran the edge of the razor across the skin with the other. She was quite practiced at shaving with what the nervous called a "cutthroat razor". Her father said that it was a dying art that most people did not appreciate in modern days with disposable safety razors. Despite Antonin's tendency to sprout thick hair quickly, it did not take her very long before his face was as smooth as she was certain it had been when he was a young boy. Using the hot towel that had been soaking once more in the hot water while she shaved him, she removed all of the excess shaving foam still present.

There was something incredibly sensual about this man allowing this woman to shave his face. A bit of trust on his part was required. Even though the words were never spoken aloud, it would not have taken much effort at all for Hermione to slice open his throat just enough to cause his death. Hermione couldn't help noticing the way his dark brown eyes were rapidly growing darker the more she rubbed the hot towel on his face. When all signs of the soap were gone from his countenance, she rubbed her own cheeks against both of his cheeks to test the smoothness. That was all it took for Antonin to pull her back down into his arms and continue the kiss from earlier in the evening.

She wasn't ready to further their intimate relationship, but feared that at some point she would have to in order to keep her plan from failing. Teasing and tempting could only work for so long before a completion was required. Hermione did not want to think about the moment she would finally have to betray Lucius or potentially simply his memory to convince Antonin that she was genuine. _Hopefully_ , she thought, _it won't ever have to come to that._

Hermione extricated herself from Antonin's limbs to stand back up on her two feet. He protested her removal and tried to pull her back. She placed a firm hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"I'm going to go take a long bath before I go to bed," she announced. "Sleep well."

She continued to ignore his objections all the way to the bathroom. It was best to stop his attempted seduction in its tracks before he could get a good start on it. She was only human after all. Eventually he was going to succeed. Hermione lay in the hot bubbles for a long time considering the next parts of her plan. Her blasted silver bracelet kept catching the light. She was going to have to do something about that soon. It would have to be the first thing to go.

The next morning Hermione slipped out of bed before Antonin even woke up. She hurriedly dressed in the bathroom and prepared for the day before he was aware that she was gone. After taking a last look at his slumbering form to confirm that he was still unconscious, Hermione snuck down into his study. In the corner of the room his potions station was organized in a manner that even Professor Snape would approve of. She began searching the ingredients. Normally Antonin preferred her to stay away from his ingredients, but seeing as how he had never actively asked her to leave them alone, she was certain she could get away with pilfering whatever she needed to take.

In the very back row of the ingredients she found a jar of crushed mistletoe berry oil. She carefully removed the lid of the jar with the bottom of her long skirt covering her hand as she did so. When the jar was fully opened, Hermione dipped in a cotton swab she would ordinarily use for cleaning around the outside of her ears. She made quick work of rubbing the swab through the inside of her bracelet. It was very important that she not allow the oil that she was very allergic to to drip on any other part of her body. Once the oil was in place she held her wrist steady by laying it down on the work station until the oil dried in place. As soon as she was certain that the oil wouldn't drip down her arm or onto her hand, she carefully reassembled the jar and placed it back in its original spot. She learned to her detriment in third year that the oil created with those particular berries caused her skin to erupt in a severe, itchy rash.

Hermione rushed up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. Antonin had not yet emerged from the bedroom. Either he was still asleep or in the bathroom. Knowing that Greg would be arriving soon to complete his day's work, she got started on preparing breakfast. Her efforts in the study were not in vain. Before Antonin exited the room with a head full of wet hair as the eggs were finishing, her wrist felt like it was on fire. Hermione dunked it in a sink full of soapy water to try to wash the remnants of the oil off, leaving only the rash.

"You're up early," he said, dropping a soft kiss on the side of her head on his way to the kitchen table.

"Woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep."

Hermione took the skillet with the eggs in it straight to the table. Holding the handle in her right hand, she used her left to spoon out the eggs onto Antonin's plate. He smiled at her as she did so, but the moment his eyes dropped down to inspect his plate, he grabbed her left wrist.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes full of concern as he examined the red pustules that were beginning to break out on her wrist.

Hermione pretended she was embarrassed by the attention. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and moved to cross back over to the stove. Antonin removed the skillet from her right hand and pulled her back by her left.

"How long has your wrist looked like this?"

"I don't know. It's been fairly itchy the last few days."

"Do you have an allergy to silver? I've never noticed your wrist looking like this before."

"Not that I know of," she answered. "Unless it's something I've just developed. I think I got some of the cleaning potions I was using yesterday to clean the bathroom under the bracelet. It will probably clear up in a couple of days."

Antonin used his wand to summon a vial from his study. With his hand still grasping her left hand, he tapped the bracelet with his wand and muttered. Instantly the bracelet fell off. He rubbed the ointment from the vial over her irritated skin.

"I think it best that we leave this off for now," he said, motioning towards the bracelet lying open on the table. "Give your wrist some air to breathe and heal."

"Whatever you think is best." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sat across the table from him to begin her own breakfast.

For an entire week Hermione resisted the urge to run outside past the garden gates. She had the freedom to do so, but she knew that she had to make Antonin believe she had no desire to leave or he'd put the damn bracelet back on. For the first few days she caught him observing her closely, almost expecting her to try to escape. She would just catch his eye and smile at him like she didn't understand his concerns. At night she started moving closer in the bed to him, even once or twice allowing him to spoon up against her. It helped him believe that she wasn't desperate to escape. Once when he was summoned, she caught him surreptitiously setting up additional wards before he left. She knew he was trying to test her so she kept both of her feet and both of her hands firmly inside the walls of the cottage until he returned. When he was certain that she wasn't trying to escape and had no plans to leave, he banished the silver bracelet to some dark recess in his study. He never brought it up again. In his mind, she was now staying in the cottage of her own free will.

He began to trust her just a little bit more from then on. Even allowed her to walk down to the beach with him one evening after dinner. She was exhilarated by the fresh air and the knowledge that for the first time in over two months, she was outside of his cottage walls. She thanked him for the outing by baking him a perfect cake for dinner the next night infused with her own special brand of sleeping potion. He had been so used to eating strangely tasting baked goods from her as she learned to bake that he didn't even notice the unusual flavors caused by the potion. He was asleep on the living room couch before he knew what was happening.

After testing that he was indeed completely unconscious and unable to hear her, she started digging in his clothes for his wand. She wasn't going to steal it, simply borrow it. Too many questions would be asked if his wand came up missing. Of course if she stole his wand and tried to escape, it would only be a matter of time before he placed a trace on his wand and discovered her whereabouts. She did not want to imagine how angry he would be if that happened.

She used his wand to locate the hiding place of her wand with a handy locating spell she learned during her sixth year at Hogwarts. There was a loose stone in the garden wall. When she pulled it out, her cherry wood wand was just lying there ready for her to steal it back. She carefully removed the wand, not putting it past Antonin to put up some kind of protection spell around it in case she accidentally stumbled upon it. Satisfied that she knew where to find it when she needed it again, she put the cherry wand back in Antonin's hiding spot and replaced the loose stone concealing it.

Antonin's wand was put back in his pocket while he was still snoring on the sofa. Hermione was feeling overly confident. So far nothing had gone wrong with her plan and that usually made her nervous. She lay in the empty bed alone that night worrying about what could possibly go wrong. Several hours of restless sleep passed before the next morning. Antonin was confused by waking up on the couch, but when Hermione greeted him with a kiss and a vial of hangover potion, he seemed less upset. The empty bottle of fire whiskey lying on the floor next to him that Hermione poured down the drain answered the majority of his questions about the night before.

By the time August came to a close and September began, Hermione had completely convinced Antonin that she had no desire to be anywhere else in the world but right there in his cottage with him. He was a much happier and more confident wizard with that false knowledge. Hermione noticed that he no longer cast the extra enchantments before he left each time he was summoned. Her plan had taken a long time, but he had finally been lulled into a false sense of security.

On September 1st, Hermione woke up feeling nostalgic and sad. Though even under normal circumstances this wouldn't have been a day that she would be off to Hogwarts, she lay in bed thinking about all of the young witches and wizards who were waking up excited that morning to go off to school. Of course times had changed. Maybe they weren't excited about heading off to school where the Dark Lord kept his headquarters. Even if she was the purest Pureblood and had the craziest Death Eater parents, Hermione was certain that a school overseen by Lord Voldemort was not a school she would want to attend. Mandatory attendance of all Half- and Pureblood children in the country meant that the school was at full capacity. She could imagine how tempers could flare with so many young people in one building.

"I have to leave," Antonin announced as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. He was already dressed and ready to go. "I'll probably be back very late. Don't wait up."

She waited for the crack of Apparition before getting out of the warm bed. Temperatures were already starting to drop in preparation for the upcoming autumn season. The cottage was sure to be freezing come winter. She desperately hoped that she wouldn't have to spend a winter season huddled up in flannel sheets with Antonin spooned up behind her for additional warmth.

Greg was already working in the attic when she finished showering. He'd still been faithfully bringing her newspapers as often as she could. She was grateful for her one link to the outside world. He, however, was not always very excited to see her coming up the stairs to visit. This morning was no exception.

"Good morning, Greg," she greeted with a false sense of delight.

"Morning, Hermione."

He wanted to ignore her because she was always making him change how he was doing something. It was fine at first when he realized that the more changes she requested, the more work he would have, but after a while, it became tedious.

"If I promised to _never_ make another suggestion on how you design and remodel this room or the bathroom, will you do something for me?"

"Possibly." He was suspicious. He had every right to be. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing you haven't done before."

"No, Hermione! You don't understand how risky it was last time. Draco almost refused to see me. I had to beg him to meet me in the Three Broomsticks. Even then he looked as if he wanted to punch me the entire time we were there. When I gave him your message and told him it was from you, I thought he was going to hex me. He made me leave the pub with him and go out to the Shrieking Shack. That place was scary when we thought it was haunted, but now that I know what happened to Professor Snape in there during the final battle, it's terrifying!"

"Oh, get over it, Greg. I was _there_ when Professor Snape died. It was horrible, but I doubt that he had any desire to remain on this physical plane as a ghost. He's not waiting for you in the shack to hit you over the head with your cauldron and make you write lines."

"Well, it was still unnerving. I had to stand out there and wait until Draco's father Apparated there with us. Even speaking to an Undesirable could've put me in Azkaban!"

Hermione sighed in frustration.

"If you deliver this second message to Draco, Greg, I will release you from your life debt. I will consider it paid in full."

The young wizard stood in the middle of the unfinished attic bedroom considering the bargain for several long minutes. Hermione didn't even bother to hide her frustration. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot until he finally agreed to pass one final message on to Draco for her.

Hermione rushed down to the study to grab a spare piece of parchment. She considered for several minutes what she was going to write.

 _My darling Lucius,_

 _I've never given up hope that you were alive. If you are, Draco will know where to find you. (If you aren't, then I would ask Draco to pass this on to Kingsley or someone else willing to face Antonin's temper to find me). This parchment is imbued with a tracking spell. I've been practicing how to discover my geographical coordinates using a spell and the satellites in space. Simply tap this parchment with your wand and say, "rescisco". If done correctly, the coordinates should then pop up on the parchment. There are a number of wards and enchantments that are protecting this cottage. If you can find the area, wait until one in the morning and shoot red sparks into the air. I will be watching for you and I will come out and join you. Please be careful, my love._

 _-Hermione_

She folded up the parchment into a small triangle before heading back upstairs. Her wand was easy to find. Antonin had not removed it since she was able to discover its whereabouts. Every day that he was called away she practiced the tracking spell. She was thankful yet again in her life that she was always able to pay attention during Charms lectures. Once the parchment was imbued with the spell, she took it back upstairs to Greg.

"I can't make any promises, Hermione."

"All I'm asking you to do is get it into Draco's hands. That's it. If you can do that, then your life debt will be paid."

All she had to do was wait for someone to arrive. She didn't exactly expect it to work that night, but she stayed up waiting in hopes that it would. By two in the morning, no sparks appeared in the sky and Antonin had not returned. She went to bed and hoped for the best the next day.

Nothing happened on the second either. Greg assured Hermione that he was able to pass the message on to Draco. He considered his life debt paid to her and refused to do anything else for her including bring more newspapers. She couldn't exactly blame the boy. He was terrified of her host. Antonin would kill him for betrayal without even thinking about it twice.

September 3rd was a quiet night as was September 4th. She was beginning to fear that her plan had failed or that perhaps Lucius really was dead. That would be the only explanation for why no one had come to find her yet. Believing that September 5th was sure to be the night, Hermione drugged Antonin again. She couldn't risk doing it very often. He would eventually either become suspicious, dependent on the potion or even resistant to it if exposed for a long time. Unfortunately, nothing happened that night either.

She was losing hope. When the night of the sixth rolled around, she didn't even try to drug Antonin again. It was getting too risky. He couldn't understand why there were several days he couldn't even remember going to bed after dinner. Too many uncomfortable questions were about to be asked.

Hermione snuggled into bed that night expecting nothing to happen. Her plan failed. No one was coming for her. Her tracking spell didn't work. No one cared enough about her to keep searching. Antonin snuggled up behind her, his arms around her body, his tongue doing delicious things to her ear that she wished he would stop.

"I think I have been very patient, Hermione," he whispered, his voice husky with longing.

She tried to shrug him off like she had a dozen times before, but this night he was insistent. Antonin pinned her down to the bed and began covering her entire body with fierce, hot kisses. She felt sad enough by her failure and lonely enough because she was certain this must mean Lucius was dead that she didn't even try to fight him off as he carefully removed her pajamas. She knew this night would happen sooner or later. Best to go ahead and get it over with even it was an insult to Lucius' memory.

Hermione laid in bed a fairly inactive participant. Antonin didn't seem to notice. Probably assumed she was simply nervous. He crooned to her in a mixture of English and Russian while he made very one-sided love. Hermione summoned all of her strength to not cry. When he finally shuddered and collapsed on top of her, she wanted nothing more than to scrape her skin off under gallons and gallons of hot water. With his protestations ringing through the air of their bedroom, she disappeared into the bathroom to cry in the shower.

She returned to bed reluctantly, wishing she could be anywhere other than where she was. If no one was going to come find her, she decided that the first time Antonin was summoned away, she would retrieve her wand and go. At some point she managed to fall asleep only to be awoken by a screeching alarm going off all around the cottage. Antonin leapt from the bed, almost falling on his face when his feet got tangled in the covers. He pulled his pajama pants on and ran outside. Hermione saw a shower of red sparks in the air. Excited because she knew that it meant someone she loved and cared about had finally come for her, she ran out to the garden to retrieve her wand.

A fierce duel was going on just outside the garden. She rushed to exit the gates, but had to stop herself because of the swirling of curses and hexes flying through the air. She pointed her wand at Antonin to _stupefy_ him. He moved out of range too quickly for her curse to make contact. Hermione ran outside of the gates at full speed, not even noticing she didn't have any shoes on.

Antonin was easy to pick out because his pale skin shone in the moonlight. The other duelist was harder to see. They'd come prepared dressed all in black. Hermione strained her eyes to see who it was, hoping, praying it was Lucius after all. Neither duelist said a word. All of their spells were nonverbal. She ran towards the other wizard and almost made it in range to see who it was when she ran straight into Antonin, dropping her wand on the ground as she did so. With one arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other holding up an impressive shield, Antonin screamed at the other wizard.

"Not this time, Lucius!"

Hermione couldn't even register the fact that Antonin was screaming her beloved's name before she felt the tightening and pulling of Apparition. When the swirling stopped, she looked up to see the looming Lestrange Manor up ahead.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

A house elf answered the massive front door to the manor house when Antonin practically dragged Hermione across the estate grounds. Rabastan Lestrange stood behind his servant in a garish dressing gown with his wand raised and ready to do battle if necessary. He laughed aloud when he saw his dear friend's dishabille. Rabastan gestured for Antonin to enter without saying a word through his wheezing.

"What an unexpected surprise to see you in such a state on my doorstep in the middle of the night," Rabastan said when his laughter ended. "Oh, and you brought your little whore with you. How splendid."

Antonin placed his body in front of Hermione's in a protective posture that she appreciated. She held on to the waistband of his pajama pants for reassurance. When Rabastan caught the dangerous glint in Antonin's eyes after his comment, he visibly gulped. Not for the first time Hermione could appreciate the fear that her current protector could instill in others without opening his mouth to say a word. Antonin was the kind of wizard who could make a person wither under his gaze alone.

"We had an attempted break in," Antonin explained, pulling Hermione with him across the threshold so the house elf could close the door behind them.

Rabastan looked concerned with Antonin's news.

"I thought your home was Unplottable," Rabastan sputtered. "How could anyone be able to find it?"

"It is or at least it was supposed to be," Antonin answered. "Nothing magical should have worked to uncover its position."

Hermione fought the urge to laugh by biting down on the insides of her cheeks. A proud, Muggle-hating Death Eater like Antonin couldn't possibly conceive how it was Muggle technology that allowed Lucius to find his hiding place. She wondered why it had taken him five whole days to figure out where she was. Maybe it had taken Draco a few days to locate his father. All of the newspapers still had him as "Missing". It might have taken his son some time to figure out where he was. Hermione was going to owe Draco a great deal when this was all over.

"I need to go back," Antonin announced. "Lucius is probably still there searching for any clues of where we've gone."

Rabastan's eyes widened at the name of the wizard who had only recently sent him to the hospital with life threatening injuries.

"Lucius is alive? I thought he was killed at Azkaban." There was a definite note of panic in his usually calm voice.

"Apparently Yaxley is more useless than I always thought he was. Lucius must've been able to get away and hide somewhere to recuperate."

"Damn the luck!" Rabastan exclaimed, stopping himself from snapping his wand in two pieces in frustration. "I'm not looking forward to meeting him in a duel again. I almost didn't survive last time."

"I have to keep Hermione safe."

"Ah, yes, the little Mudblood that is the source of all of this unpleasantness."

He glared at Hermione and she ducked her head back behind Antonin's broad torso. She didn't want either of the men to see her smile. Lucius was alive! Lucius was alive and he was coming for her. All she had to do was keep faith just a little bit longer and she would finally be back in his arms where she knew she belonged.

"May I leave her here for a little while? I need to deal with the issues at home immediately."

Hermione's stomach dropped the moment Antonin's question exited his mouth. Leave her alone with Rabastan Lestrange? Was the man completely mad? There was no possible way she could remain safe while locked up in Lestrange's home.

"Antonin, don't leave me here," she begged in a whisper that unfortunately was not soft enough to prevent Rabastan from hearing.

"Shh, _daragaya_. You will be safe here."

Hermione seriously doubted that. The last time she was alone with Rabastan he'd pressed her up against a topiary in the garden and attempted to have his disgusting way with her. She did not like how Lestrange was smiling at her. It reminded her too much of how she imagined a spider looks at a fly caught in its web. At least she trusted Antonin to not hurt her again as strange as that seemed.

"I will be delighted to host the infamous Miss Granger as a guest in my home," Rabastan chuckled. "She is unarmed, of course, Antonin? I have heard reports of her prowess with a wand and would prefer my bollocks to remain precisely where they are."

"Antonin, please," she begged, not bothering to keep her voice down. "Don't leave me here alone. Take me with you."

He placed a sweet, gentle kiss on her forehead and squeezed her shoulders in an act of intended reassurance.

"You will be safe here. I promise you."

She clung to Antonin, a last ditch effort to prevent him from leaving her within the grasp of a lecherous wizard who'd already proven in the past that he could not be trusted. Her thoughts fixated on the night of the reception when Rabastan almost succeeded in raping her. If Lucius hadn't arrived in time… she shook her head in an attempt to banish all of the negative, terrifying memories of that night. Antonin continued his heartening ministrations on her shoulders before leaning down to whisper in her ear quietly enough for only Hermione to be able to hear.

"Rabastan will not touch one hair on your head," he promised. "He is not thick enough to try that again knowing he would have to face me. I assure you, I would not be as easily dissuaded from murdering him as Lucius was."

It was a small comfort, but she accepted what he offered. Antonin kissed her goodbye, a lingering kiss that made her cheeks flush with remembrances of earlier that evening before his wards were breeched. Rabastan look on at the embrace with a smirk on his features Hermione longed to peel off with a knife. Antonin spoke a few words directly into Rabastan's ear that Hermione couldn't hear. Based on the slight blanch of Lestrange's features she assumed Antonin was advising his dear old friend on what kind of treatment he could expect on his return if Hermione was harmed in any way. Rabastan's eyes narrowed in her direction once Antonin's partially clad figure disappeared back into the darkness of the night.

"Your cunt must be extraordinary indeed to have two such powerful wizards fight to the death for the privilege of sniffing it."

Hermione's stomach turned at the crass words from the repulsive man in front of her. She could almost hear Rabastan's ghastly, libidinous thoughts. His eyes raked over her body making her feel naked to his gaze. She wished she was wearing Antonin's heavy woolen cloak instead of the thin pajamas she'd run out of the cottage wearing.

"Come, Mudblood. Let me show you to your room."

Rabastan immediately began climbing the grand staircase behind them. Hermione followed after him against her wishes. She couldn't believe that of all of the places in the entire world, Antonin was forcing her to be alone with Rabastan. Was the Dark Lord on holiday? Unavailable to allow her to kip on his couch for an evening? When they reached the first landing on the first floor, Rabastan turned to walk down a long corridor. A door at the end of the hall opened up and a familiar voice rang out.

"Darling, come back to bed."

Rabastan turned around to face Hermione with a feral grin across his features.

"I don't believe, Miss Granger, that you have officially met my new wife."

The thought of any woman willingly choosing to bind themselves in an official ceremony with that cretin made Hermione sick to her stomach once more. She could only imagine what kind of individual would actually want to become a Lestrange.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Isla Lestrange nee Black-Fawley demanded of her new husband. "If you think I am going to let her in our bed, Rabbie, you are sorely mistaken."

Hermione was concerned briefly that her dinner would come back up at the thought of a threesome with two of the most loathsome people she had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

"Let me just put your mind at ease," Hermione replied. "I would rather die."

Isla pulled her wand out from the pocket of her dressing gown. She stepped into the corridor and pushed it into Hermione's face.

"That could certainly be arranged."

Rabastan carefully pushed his wife's hand out of their guest's face.

"Now now, darling, there's no need for any of that," he said. "Miss Granger is simply a guest at the request of my dear friend Antonin. He will be returning shortly and has specifically requested that absolutely _no harm_ come to her."

He spoke to his horrid wife through clenched teeth, warning her to leave Hermione alone without explicitly saying so.

"Come along, Miss Granger. Antonin's usual room is just a bit further down."

A few minutes later Hermione found herself shut inside a rather large guest suite similar to what she had at Malfoy Manor. Rabastan wasted no time after their run in with his wife in the corridor in disposing of his unwanted guest. Hermione was thankful. If she had to spend another moment in Rabastan's presence, she was certain she would've been sick. Part of her wondered if he knew how truly repulsive he was. Did he enjoy being disgusting? Was it part of the persona that he worked so diligently to portray? Shuddering in disgust at the mere thought of the man just a short distance down the corridor, Hermione entered the lavish guest bathroom to wash the bottom of her feet. There was certainly no way she would ever find herself completely naked in a building that horrid man was located in. She dipped her bare feet, dirty with running around the countryside with no shoes, into the deep bathtub.

Once her ablutions were complete, she laid on top of the covers of the huge bed waiting for Antonin to return. She was certain that there was no way she would ever be able to fall back asleep after the events that had already transpired. Couple that with not trusting Rabastan any further than she could toss a fully grown hippogriff, Hermione would never be comfortable enough to spend a moment slumbering.

Or at least that was her plan. The sun began appearing over the horizon when she reopened her eyes. There was no sign that Antonin had returned yet. Surely he would've woken her up by his entrance into the bed chamber if he had. Cursing herself for falling asleep in enemy territory, Hermione rose from the bed and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. No crisis was ever too much that proper dental hygiene couldn't be practiced. Her parents would've been proud of her all of those months on the run with Ron and Harry. She couldn't recall a single instance when she had been unable to brush or floss in the tent. The boys usually followed her lead in cleansing their mouths for no other reason than to simply shut her up.

Hermione did not want to exit the room, but after several hours of sitting around waiting she was getting antsy. A million worst case scenarios swept through her head. Lucius was dead, for real this time at the end of Antonin's wand. Antonin was dead and she was trapped inside the Lestrange Manor with a horny sociopath and no protector. Somehow Lucius and Antonin both managed to kill the other and she was still trapped inside the Lestrange Manor with a horny sociopath, no protector and that horrible woman. She decided to put some of that famous Gryffindor courage on display and head downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs she could hear a heated conversation coming from a cracked door near the entrance. Hermione padded quietly across the marble floors in her bare feet, hoping that no one would be able to hear her approach. She stood just outside of the door to what must be the drawing room. If she stood behind a large plant a couple of feet from the door she was completely concealed from the occupants within.

"I want her gone, Rabastan," Isla practically shouted at her husband.

"I understand that, dear, but she is Antonin's. We can't just send her out of the manor without his permission."

"Why are you so afraid of that man? I don't understand."

Rabastan sighed loudly. This was obviously not the first time this newlywed couple had had this exact same discussion before.

"You know why, Isla. I've told you what he is capable of. Antonin Dolohov is a man you want on your side. He makes a formidable enemy."

"I want his whore out of my house."

"Isla…"

"No! I'm tired of arguing about this. I want her out now!"

Hermione only realized that the angry Mrs. Lestrange was exiting the drawing room when she was two steps away from her. Lucius' goddaughter pulled her wand out of her pocket and held it up to Hermione's throat. The anger in her eyes was intimidating to say the least. Hermione had made a potentially deadly enemy.

"You enjoy eavesdropping, you filthy Mudblood?" Isla demanded, poking her wand further into her throat. "Hear anything that interested you?"

"I want out of your house just as much as you want me out," Hermione answered. "Probably more so actually. The last person in the world I trust is your rapist husband."

Isla slapped Hermione across the face with a fury the younger witch didn't expect. The sting on her cheek was quite painful. She felt her eyes fill up with tears at the shock. The fuming Mrs. Lestrange reared back as if she was going to hit Hermione again, but her husband stopped her. Not wishing to be anywhere near the crazed woman, Hermione ran back up the stairs to the guest suite she'd spent most of the night in.

She crawled into the bed to take a nap. The previous evening had been stressful and emotional. Stuck inside a strange room by herself, she hadn't been able to experience any restful sleep. She slipped into an uneasy slumber filled with disturbing dreams about Antonin and Lucius. When a warm hand brushed against her cheek to wake her up, she was grateful for the interruption.

"What happened?" Antonin asked, rubbing her cheek where Isla slapped her earlier. It still felt tender.

"The charming Mrs. Lestrange is still angry with me pretending to be her for months, I'm assuming."

"She hit you?"

Antonin's tone was calm, but Hermione knew enough about the man to know he was very angry. His jaw was tensed and his breathing was heavier. She was certain that if she checked his pulse right now it would be racing. As she repositioned herself to sit up in the bed, she thought of a million different questions for the wizard currently invading her personal space. He had a bad habit of doing that and lately had only gotten worse.

"First she shoved her wand in my throat. No, I take that back. Last night she shoved her wand in my face and this morning she poked me in the throat with it before she slapped me."

"Why did she hit you?"

"I might have called her husband a rapist."

Antonin ran his hand through her curls. He'd always been enraptured by the unruliness.

"Sometimes I forget how innocent and naïve you can be."

"Excuse me?" If there was one thing that Hermione Granger resented above all else, it was being called innocent and naïve. She'd already experienced more in her almost twenty years than most people did in their entire lives.

"You are so trusting. It's endearing," he continued. "And dangerous."

"What are you talking about?"

Antonin reached inside his robe pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Folded into a triangle with familiar handwriting on the outside. He tapped the parchment with his wand and muttered a single world.

" _Rescisco."_

The parchment began to glow and Hermione thought she was going to vomit. A series of numbers began to scrawl across the parchment.

"Interesting spell, I must say," he continued, turning the triangle over. "What are these numbers? Geographical coordinates?"

"Yes." There was no sense in lying to the man. She knew she'd been caught. Greg obviously betrayed her.

"And what do they tell you? How are they used?"

"The spell uses Muggle satellite positions to find the exact location of the cottage."

"Fascinating. So a location that is Unplottable with magic can still be found using these Muggle methods?"

She could tell that he was indeed interested in what she was telling him, but she could also sense his anger underneath the questioning. Antonin was keeping a calm, collected demeanor. She hoped he would continue to at least _appear_ to be serene.

"Yes."

Hermione tried to rise from the bed. Antonin pushed her back down. She felt her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Because of fear? Anger? Humiliation? She couldn't be sure. Maybe all of them and more emotions she could not quite pinpoint. Not wishing to meet Antonin's furious eyes, she scanned the room. Just inside the door to the bedroom several trunks were being unpacked by a couple of house elves. It looked as if most of their clothing from the cottage was being hung up in the suite's closet. Their sojourn in the Lestrange Manor was obviously not going to be a short one.

"Why did you bring all of our clothes here?" she demanded.

"We will be staying with the Lestranges for a little while."

"No! I don't want to be here."

Antonin brushed her sore cheek with his hand once more.

"It seemed necessary to boost up the wards and protections at the cottage."

"Because Lucius was able to find it?"

Antonin laughed aloud at her last question.

"Do you see what I mean? So innocent. So naïve."

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that?!"

Hermione pushed his hands off of her with all of her force and jumped up from the bed. Before she even made it two steps away, Antonin had his arms around her waist. He pulled her backwards to sit on his knee. Leaning down to tickle her ear with his breath, Antonin began to whisper.

"That wasn't Lucius. If he's still alive, which there is still some doubt, he has no idea where you are."

She was certain she was going to faint at his admission. Her head felt heavy and her vision became a bit blurry.

"You are a very clever witch, Hermione. I am impressed, but you put your trust in the wrong person."

"When did Greg tell you?"

"I've known since the first day he was smuggling in newspapers in his lunch bag. It didn't take a genius to figure out and then I found the stack hidden under your sink. I allowed him to continue because I didn't see the harm in your learning what was going on outside of our retreat. Of course it also helped that all of the newspapers kept showing that Lucius was missing and presumed dead. He brought me your note and then told you he gave it to Draco. Called in a favor and had one of my associates breech the wards last night."

"Why would you scream out Lucius' name and then tell Lestrange that you saw him? To give me false hope?"

He hesitated before nodding.

"Fuck you!"

He held up her cherry wand.

"Looks like you were able to find my hiding spot. I would be most interested in learning how you did that."

Antonin snapped the wand in two pieces.

"You son of a bitch!"

Hermione pulled away from his grasp and ran to the bathroom. He didn't follow. Once inside the room she slammed the door shut with a resounding _slam_! She collapsed onto the plush bathmat to sob her eyes out. All of her hopes of rescue were dashed in mere moments. She was surprised by how cold Antonin seemed when he told her the story and snapped her wand in half. He was a complicated man with many different sides. Lucius might still be dead and Antonin seemed pleased to tell her so! Would his jealousy for the other wizard ever end?

Antonin came into the bathroom later to force her off the floor. He made her shower and dress for dinner despite her repeated requests that he leave her alone. She didn't want to speak to him or be touched by him. He refused to take 'no' for an answer.

Fifteen minutes after dinner was served downstairs in the formal dining room, Hermione entered the room. Isla immediately stood up from the table with a dramatic flourish. She threw her linen napkin on the floor and began to storm out.

"I will _not_ eat at the same table as Lucius Malfoy's whore!"

No one saw the witch for the rest of the evening. Hermione certainly didn't mind. If Antonin had not placed a restraining hand on her arm, Hermione would've stormed out of the room behind her. A six hour Divination lesson would have been more exciting and interesting than a single meal with Rabastan Lestrange on the other side of the table.

"You will have to excuse my wife, Miss Granger," Rabastan said once Isla was safely out of the room. "She has been a little overemotional now that she is carrying my heir."

The thought of being pregnant with the spawn of Rabastan Lestrange made Hermione want to vomit the dinner she had already eaten. It also made her feel a little sorry for the other witch. She could only imagine what malevolence was growing within her womb. But only a little sorry. She'd obviously been willing to allow Lestrange to touch her so it was all her fault.

"I was unaware Mrs. Lestrange was expecting," Antonin replied.

"Yes, well, it was the reason the wedding was so rushed," Rabastan laughed. "Her mother wanted to be certain that we were married before I could change my mind. She needn't worry, of course. Isla and I were made for each other."

 _A ringing endorsement if there ever was one against the both of them_ , Hermione thought. She dropped her attention back to her plate and ignored the conversation between the two men seated at the table with her. Her thoughts were still consumed with what she had discussed with Antonin earlier upstairs in their room. She wasn't exactly surprised to find out that Greg Goyle had betrayed her trust. In fact, if she was surprised by anything at all, it was that he agreed to take the first message to Draco when she first arrived. No doubt the events of the night waiting for Lucius at the Shrieking Shack terrified the gormless Slytherin enough to deceive her when she asked a second time.

She wondered who the other duelist was the previous night. No doubt it was one of the other Death Eaters that Antonin was able to terrify into submission with a simple look. Hermione knew that Dolohov was a dangerous wizard, but there were times she was surprised at how he could intimidate so many other witches and wizards who were terribly dangerous in their own right. And why would he yell out Lucius' name at the last second? Why would he lie to Rabastan while standing just inside his front door that Lucius was the one who attacked? It seemed as if he was simply trying to be cruel to her for the pleasure of being cruel.

Hermione pushed the food around on her plate without actually eating any of it for several minutes. She wasn't even listening to Rabastan and Antonin. Nothing they said interested her. When she could finally take being at the table no longer, she rose from the table without a word and left the room despite Antonin's firm request that she stay.

Knowing that Antonin would likely come looking for her in their room, she walked out the front door. The early September night air was starting to become a bit chilly as the summer wound down to a close. She crossed the grounds to the formal gardens she had her frightening encounter with Rabastan in. They were truly breathtaking. Stretching her legs was an impossibility living in the small cottage by the ocean. With the exception of the one walk Antonin took her on to the beach, she hadn't been able to really enjoy being outside for months. Not since she used to ramble across Lucius' grounds even if the enjoyment of the experience was usually mitigated with her disguising herself as that hateful woman.

She remembered Lucius' warning the night of the reception on the grounds to avoid the hedge maze located in Rabastan's formal gardens. The thought of entering a maze after all of the horrors that Harry described to her following the third task of the Triwizard Tournament was a bit scary, but she wanted to be alone. Wanted to be somewhere that Antonin couldn't immediately find her. She wasn't naïve enough to think that the enchantments that surrounded the massive Lestrange grounds would simply allow her to exit the gates. No doubt Antonin made certain before he ran off the night before ostensibly to fight Lucius again, he'd added his own wards to prevent her escape. It was something she would've done if she had her own prisoner.

The entrance to the maze was not difficult to find. She thought again about how Lucius warned her to not let Rabastan find her alone in the maze. The more she remembered the events of that night, the more they bothered her. If Lucius hadn't removed Rabastan from her at the last moment… She shuddered at the thought. The hedge maze was at least ten feet tall. She found it interesting that even with the sun almost completely out of the rapidly darkening night sky, there was enough light within the maze to maneuver around without fear. Part of her assumed that the maze would be dark and creepy. It wasn't either. Enchanted lanterns hovered above her lighting the pathway.

When she arrived at the first fork in the road, she thought of Ryan Sloane and the night he helped her escape from Antonin's eager clutches. _"Keep going left as much as you can."_ That was the advice that led her right to Lucius' waiting arms. Smiling at the memory of the young man who tragically lost his life fighting at the Battle of Azkaban, Hermione turned left. If only turning left would lead her right back to Lucius. She felt the ever-present tears begin to gather at the corners of her eyes, and she forced herself to stop. Too many tears had already been shed. Some days she didn't feel like the "greatest witch of her age". She felt useless and hopeless and friendless. Part of her wondered if she would ever have the confidence that she used to have in the last few years of school. She had such righteous indignation at what was going on in the world with Voldemort gathering his strength and trying to murder her best friend and anyone else who got in the process. She idealistically believed that even if times were scary or hard eventually the right side would win. The good always had to win.

Hermione scoffed at memories of her younger self. She remembered the trite saying that her mother always said when her daughter was feeling discouraged about life. _"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end."_ Her mother could be so infuriating at times! If she had only known the kind of danger that her daughter faced in her short life she wouldn't have been so eager to believe the pedestrian bumper sticker sayings she loved to spout. Life wasn't an old western. The bad guys didn't always wear black hats and didn't always die in the end. She'd had so much hope the night before. Believed that her knight was finally coming to rescue her from her tower. _Life is not a fairy tale, Hermione._

By the time she made her fourth or fifth left turn within the maze, Hermione found a secluded dead end with a bench and an unimpeded view of the night sky. Seeking solitude and not necessarily the other end of the maze, she sat down on the surprisingly comfortable stone bench. Even with almost ten years of living within the magical world she was still occasionally startled by magic's ability to make something she was so familiar with in the Muggle world completely different than in the Magical. The stone bench felt like she was resting on a soft cloud. She lay on her back to stare up at the starry night sky.

She needed a new plan to get out, but she didn't even know where to begin. Didn't even know if she had the strength yet to put the energy forth needed to accomplish such a task. Her plan to escape the cottage would've worked if she hadn't relied on Greg to do something as simple as deliver a message to an old friend of his. She was surprised she wasn't as angry with the wizard as she expected she would be. Yes, he ruined her well-thought out and well-executed plan, but she should've known that her plan was only as strong as its weakest link. Greg was undoubtedly the weakest part of her plan. Maybe if she had summoned an owl instead. _No, the owl would've been intercepted. Of course Draco's correspondence is monitored._ Maybe she could've sent her patronus with a message to Kingsley or George. There had to have been a million other options that would've been better than to rely on someone who had proven in the past to be untrustworthy.

"Your exit from dinner was very rude," Antonin admonished her when he found her lying on the bench.

"I don't really care."

Antonin lifted her legs to sit beneath them on the bench. When he tried to bring her legs back down into his lap, Hermione moved to sit back up. She scooted to the far edge of the bench as far away from him as physically possible without getting up.

"I'm not a guest in this house, Antonin," she continued. "I'm a _prisoner_. I don't have to be polite."

"We are not going to be here much longer."

"Right, just until you strengthen the bars on your prison."

Antonin reached over to touch her, but she pushed his hand away from her body. Now that her plan failed there didn't seem any reason to let him believe it was still okay to touch her. If he seemed confused by her sudden change in behavior towards him, he didn't show it.

"Why did you come out into the maze?" he asked.

"I wanted to be alone. Guess it didn't work."

"It's not a good idea to wander off alone without telling me."

"If I told you where I was going it would defeat the purpose of me trying to get away from you."

Antonin sighed.

"Let's go back inside to our room and we can discuss this further."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you, Antonin! I want you to leave me alone."

With one swift movement that Hermione was powerless to resist, Antonin had both of his hands around her waist and her body in his lap. She tried to push him off so she could stand back up, but to no avail. He was simply too strong and she was once again at his mercy.

"Let me go," she demanded, not ceasing her struggle even though she knew it was useless.

"No, I won't. I won't ever let you go."

Hermione laughed a loud, mirthless cackle that made Antonin flinch. Liking his reaction, she kept laughing for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Haven't you been happy with me?" he asked, a note of desperation clinging to every word. "The past two months have been wonderful, Hermione. We could be really happy together."

"No, Antonin. We couldn't. This is all based on a lie. You can't force me to fall in love with you no matter how high you build my prison walls."

He couldn't hide the pain in his eyes at her last sentence. Hermione began to feel a bit guilty even though she meant every single world she said. Antonin was desperate to build a life with her on a foundation weaker than sand. She wondered if he'd always been this delusional or if it was a recent development. Maybe fifteen years locked up in wizarding prison with no hope for escape had warped his perceptions to a dangerous degree.

"I think you're wrong, Hermione."

"I'm not. I honestly wish I were for your sake, but I'm not."

"What about the last two months?" His expression broke Hermione's heart.

"I wanted you to believe that I wanted to be there." She couldn't meet his eyes while she made her confession. "I thought that if I could make you believe that I wanted to be there and could somehow convince you that I wouldn't leave, you'd remove the wards keeping me there so I could escape."

"You didn't mean _any_ of that? Nothing you said or did was genuine?"

"I'm sorry."

He rose so abruptly from the bench that Hermione fell to the ground hard. She gasped and started to say something, but he'd already started walking away.

"Then you should have slit my throat that night. It would have been kinder."

She waited until she could no longer see him or hear him walking through the maze before bursting into tears.

* * *

Three entire days passed without Hermione seeing Antonin. She spent the entire first day alone in their room waiting, but he never came in. Before dinner that night she found Rabastan downstairs to ask him where Antonin was.

 _"Antonin has placed you in my protection for a short time, Miss Granger. I am not sure when he will return, but you can rest comfortably knowing that you are protected here. The Lestrange Manor estate grounds are covered by many intricate and complex wards. No one, not even a damned Malfoy, will be able to pass those gates without the permission of the head of the Lestrange family. That means coming and going, Mudblood."_

She only left the privacy of her guest suite to walk the gardens alone. Meals were served by a timid house elf in her rooms. Hermione was thankful that the handful of times she heard the raised and irritable voice of Isla Lestrange she was able to hide before the other woman saw her. It was evident that she still was unhappy with her house guest regardless of the fact that they never saw each other.

Each night Hermione returned to the hidden bench within the confines of the hedge maze. Despite her initial reservations about entering another maze after what happened to Harry and Cedric Diggory, she found the area to be comforting and peaceful. She enjoyed being outside under the stars. No one ever bothered her there. It gave her the opportunity to think outside of the stifling restrictions of the hated manor house.

"I have good news for you."

Rabastan Lestrange's voice sounding out of the blue reminded Hermione sickeningly of the night that he tried to rape her. She immediately jumped off of the stone bench before the wizard turned the corner in the hedge to face her in the dead end. He had his disturbing smirk plastered across his face that made her worried for her safety. As his _guest_ she was completely at his mercy. The gates would not allow her to leave without his permission. She was trapped, relying simply on Rabastan's fear of Antonin to not touch her.

"What news?" she asked, intensely curious despite being thoroughly creeped out.

Rabastan moved closer to where she was standing. Instinctively Hermione began to back away from him. Remembering the night of the reception and being trapped for doing that very same thing, Hermione brushed past him quickly to get out of the corner. The wizard smiled at her, obviously aware of her discomfort being alone in his presence once again.

"Antonin will be returning this evening," he said, stalking closer. "I daresay you've been missing him. A witch like you can't bear to spend too much time alone in an empty bed."

His arm shot out at lightning speed and caught Hermione's. She screamed and tried to push him off. The much stronger man's arms encompassed her completely. In an almost exact repeat of the first night she was ever there, Rabastan's mouth descended on hers with a frightening rapidity and ferocity. The alcoholic fumes were practically oozing out of his pores. Just like the night of his party, alcohol was severely impairing his judgment.

"He's coming to take you back," Rabastan said between disgusting kisses up and down her neck. "I can't possibly let you leave without tasting that spectacular cunt that has two men willing to kill for."

Hermione refused to allow this disgusting creature to touch her further. All of the frustration and anger she had been keeping repressed for the past several months began to bubble up to the surface. Despite her tiny frame, she placed both of her hands on Rabastan's chest and used all of her righteous indignation to push the intoxicated wizard away from her body. Rabastan was caught off guard by the action enough to be unable to prevent himself from falling backwards. He narrowly missed smashing his head on the side of the stone bench. Hermione used his temporary confusion to run. She screamed out for help from anyone who might hear.

When she ran towards the fork in the maze that would take her out the way she came in, she found the way blocked. Confused because she had been in this maze at least three times and been able to exit that way each time, she screamed again and began pushing at the hedge looking for some way to open it back up. Soft laughter behind her made her turn back around. Rabastan was stalking towards her, his wand outstretched and pure fury in his eyes.

"There's no exit, Mudblood," he explained. "I've blocked them all off until I'm through with you."

"You can't touch me!" she screamed. "Antonin will kill you if you do."

"What Antonin doesn't know won't hurt him… or me, in this case."

"I will tell him! I will tell him what you did!"

Rabastan was close enough to her to reach out with his wand and tap her on the forehead.

"You won't remember what happened, but I'm sure I will never forget."

She didn't even have to waste a moment wondering if he was serious or not. Of course Rabastan was capable of raping a woman and then _obliviating_ her afterwards so she had no mental recollection of the event. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd already done it multiple times in the past. He was a deplorable animal that needed to be put down.

"He will know."

"No, my dear, he won't know."

Rabastan waved his wand in her direction. Immediately she felt her wrists tighten with thick rope wrapping around them. Almost as if she were being pulled up by an invisible force, her arms flew above her head and remained in a stuck position. She was reminded hauntingly of the night in Lucius' basement. Only this time she was absolutely certain that she was about to be harmed. Her attacker laughed to see her discomfort. He ripped the front of her shirt open in one swift movement. The cool night air caused goose bumps to pop up on her bare skin.

"Beautiful," Rabastan said as he ran his hands up her body.

Hermione shrieked at the feeling of his hands on her skin. She had never been more afraid in her entire life. Nothing compared to the feeling knowing that she was about to be attacked and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Her throat felt hoarse from the screaming. The noise she was making only seemed to encourage Rabastan further.

"It's a pity you won't remember what is about to happen. You are going to enjoy it so much."

A powerful spell blasted through the blocked exit to the hedge maze. Rabastan's eyes widened in both shock and fear as the figures of his wife and Antonin Dolohov burst through the hole created in the burning hedge. Isla screamed when she saw Hermione tied up with ripped clothing and her husband standing only inches away. Antonin didn't make a sound. His face turned bright red and without saying a word, his wand slashed through the night air and Rabastan clutched his throat. Within seconds Rabastan lay dead in a pool of his own blood.

"Rabastan!"

Isla threw herself down at her husband's lifeless form. She was screaming and sobbing and frantically searching for some kind of proof that her husband wasn't dead. Antonin rushed to untie Hermione. He repaired her ripped shirt with a quick charm and pulled her into his arms. She sobbed into his chest.

"Are you all right, _daragaya_? Did he hurt you?"

There was fear in his voice that he could not disguise. Hermione tried to explain that she was all right, that he hadn't gotten the opportunity to hurt her before they showed up, but only choking sobs came out of her mouth. Antonin spoke encouraging words into her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"You fucking bitch!" Isla screamed. "I wanted you out of here the moment you arrived. I _knew_ I couldn't trust a whore like you around my husband!"

Isla was back on her feet with her wand pointed in their direction. Antonin gently pushed Hermione behind his back and raised his own wand.

"I've been watching you come out here every night. Were you waiting for him to come find you?"

Isla Lestrange was shaking all over her body except for her wand arm.

"Lucius almost killed him because of you! And now because you couldn't keep your motherfucking hands to yourself, this asshole kills him instead! I'm going to have a baby without a father!"

Hermione wished she had the resolve to verbally spar with the distraught woman, but she didn't. She was terrified of the mentally unstable woman. Antonin kept her behind him with his free arm.

"Please calm down, Mrs. Lestrange," Antonin pleaded, the only one of the three with a calm voice.

"Don't tell me what to do! This is my house."

"We will leave immediately."

Antonin pulled Hermione gently towards the exit. She needed no encouragement. Before she even made it a few steps away from the rapidly cooling body of Rabastan Lestrange, a bright orange streak of energy shot across the stillness from Isla's wand directly into Hermione's chest. Immediately she collapsed to the hard ground and struggled to catch her breath.

" _Crucio!_ "

Hermione heard an unnatural shriek pierce the night air. It took her several moments before she realized she was the one making the noise. Isla was shouting and pointing her wand in her direction. The pain of the Cruciatus Curse was not something that was easily forgotten. Hermione's mind flashed back in time as she writhed on the ground to the torture session she experienced at the end of the wand of another Lestrange brother's wife. She hated that fucking family.

" _Avada kedavra_!"

The pain stopped immediately though the ripple effects of the aftershocks still coursed through Hermione's body. Antonin gently lifted Hermione back to her feet.

"We have to leave quickly," he explained, gesturing towards the bodies of the hated couple.

"Thank you," she whispered. She never would've imagined when she was an idealistic student at Hogwarts that there would come a day when she would willingly thank a Death Eater for performing an Unforgivable. How life had changed!

"We cannot linger, Hermione. The wards will have fallen already."

Antonin grabbed her arm with the hand not currently holding a wand. He pulled her across the grounds faster than her short legs could really carry her. It was reminiscent of the first night he dragged her to the front door of the manor. While she was excited to leave the manor as well, she was surprised by how anxious Antonin was to get out.

The gates were thrown open. Hermione could feel the change in the air. Usually the entire estate was drenched in the magical signature of the wards that Lestranges had been using for generations to keep their grounds secure. Their absence was easy to feel. Twenty feet from the gates and freedom from the Lestranges, a solitary figure emerged from the shadows to block the exit. Hermione's heart caught in her throat when she saw the night breeze ruffle the long, platinum locks of Lucius Malfoy.

She screamed his name and Antonin pushed her to the ground. Half a second passed before the night lit up with the hexes and curses flying from the wands of the two master duelists. Hermione did her best to stay out of their way. She would only be a hindrance if she tried to interfere and she feared any interruption could mean Lucius' life.

Her heart beat furiously while she watched the two men. They were very evenly matched. Lucius and Antonin battled across the expansive grounds. One wizard would send a curse flying just as the other was able to bring up a shield to deflect it. Hermione had never been more frightened or enthralled in her entire life. She remembered the action of the Battle for Hogwarts, but even then she wasn't as scared. The uncertainty of the evening's conclusion was unbearable.

She couldn't be certain how long the two wizards fought. Both men were in excellent physical shape, but they were covered in sweat and tiring fast. Someone was bound to make a mistake sooner or later. Hermione closed her eyes and prayed to whomever or whatever might be listening to let the victor be Lucius. The dramatics of the evening were making her head spin. She hadn't been able yet to come to terms with the fact that not only was Lucius _not_ dead, but he was only meters away.

"Give it up, Dolohov!" Lucius shouted. "Give it up and let us leave."

"No! You're not leaving with her."

It was surreal to be made aware of the fact that these two wizards, both extremely powerful in their own right, were actively fighting a duel for the right to claim her as theirs. It seemed bizarre to Hermione. No one ever wanted her before. In school she hardly garnered a second look from the young men of the castle. She couldn't understand why these two men were willing to fight and potentially die to protect her.

Lucius finally hit his target as both men began to make mistakes due to fatigue. Antonin was knocked to the ground, hitting his back hard enough that the wind was knocked out of him. He writhed on the ground struggling to catch his breath. Lucius loomed over the fallen man. Hermione gasped when she saw the homicidal flash in her beloved's eyes. He was going to kill.

She wasn't sure what prompted her to rush across the yard and throw herself on top of Antonin's body. Everything happened so quickly. She made her decision without even thinking about it. Lucius stood over her with an incredulous expression on his face.

"Hermione, move out of the way!" Lucius demanded.

"No!" she shouted. "Don't kill him."

Lucius' beautiful features were marred with an offended and hurt expression. He was obviously confused by her insistence that the Death Eater who kidnapped her and kept her hostage for over three months not be killed. Antonin was as bewildered as Lucius.

"He _never_ hurt me, Lucius," she explained. "Not once! He just saved my life."

"Hermione…"

"No, Lucius! _Stupefy_ him or disarm him or knock him in the head with your fist, but do not kill him!"

Both men wore almost identical puzzled expressions on their very different faces. Hermione could've laughed if the situation was not as serious as it was. With a quick disarming spell Lucius held Antonin's wand in his hand. In an almost mirror image of Antonin from a few days before, Lucius snapped the other man's wand. He threw the pieces in Antonin's face.

Hermione couldn't ignore the hurt and humiliation her former captor was experiencing watching Lucius put his arm around her waist. She made eye contact with Antonin and almost cried. Lucius swept her out of the grounds before she could say a word to Antonin. The defeated wizard watched them exit, but did not even try to raise himself from the ground. Once outside the open gates, Lucius took Hermione's arm and Disapparated them away.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

The squeezing of the Apparition was over before Hermione could fully grasp that she was being held by Lucius once more. Everything happened so quickly that she was certain that when she opened her eyes she would find herself lying in Antonin's bed, everything from the past three days nothing but a dream. When her feet landed on solid ground, she kept her eyes closed tightly. She didn't want to wake up. Didn't want to find out that Lucius was all just a figment of her imagination.

"Are you all right, my darling?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar voice. Lucius was staring down at her from his great height, concern etched over every inch of his beautiful face. His hands were on her shoulders squeezing them tightly. Apparently she wasn't the only one struggling to believe that what they were seeing was real.

"Lucius!"

She threw her arms around Lucius' midsection and began to sob into his stomach. His arms were around her in a moment. He spoke loving nonsense in her hair that she couldn't hear or understand past her cries. Lucius held on to her frame with such a firm hand it was obvious he was afraid she would drift away from him if he didn't. It took Hermione several minutes to realize Lucius was crying every bit as much as she was, albeit with a little more grace and a lot less mucus.

It belatedly occurred to Hermione that she allowed Lucius to simply Apparate her away without being certain of his true identity. She couldn't imagine that any stranger using polyjuice would have been able to duel Antonin with such a passion, but the words of the late Mad Eye Moody made her stop her crying for long enough to push the man away from her a few inches. Confused by her sudden change in demeanor, Lucius attempted to pull her back into an embrace, but her hand on his chest stopped him.

"What was the last thing you said to me before you took me to bed the first time?" she demanded.

"What?" He didn't seem to understand her sudden interest in random questions.

"Answer me, Lucius! What was the last thing you said to me before you took me to bed the first time?"

"'I want you in diamonds and nothing else.'"

His voice husky and his pupils dilated, Lucius tried to pull her back in his arms. An accidental brush against the front of his trousers while Hermione tried to push him back revealed his mind was remembering that wonderful night and longing to recreate some of its better moments. Hermione wanted the same, but it had to wait.

"Now ask me something that no one else would know."

Lucius was annoyed. His desire to move past speaking was evident in his elevated heart rate and his stilted breathing.

"What was the title of the first book I ever bought you?" he asked.

"No, something else. Rabastan saw the book after you gave it to me. Ask me something else."

"Where were we when I almost kissed you the first time and who was the bastard who interrupted us?"

An amused snort escaped her mouth at the question.

"In the wine cellar," she answered. "You were pulling cobwebs out of my hair and just as you were about to kiss me, Neville's patronus interrupted and then you didn't even attempt to kiss me again for another three weeks!"

"Well, in my defense, you did not seem particularly interested in my romantic advances after the bad news he brought with him."

An awkward silence fell between the reunited lovers at the casual mention of the evening Hermione learned her parents were murdered. Lucius' cheeks flushed pink. Hermione thought for the millionth or so time that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She threw herself into his arms. With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, she kissed him with a ferocity she didn't know she was capable of. Lucius was taken aback for all of about half a second before he began to return her ardor. Their mouths clashed in an ancient battle of rediscovery and dominance. It was certainly a kiss of more passion than finesse. Their chins and noses bumped and their teeth hit clumsily a few times as their desperation for the sheer sensation of feeling the other increased.

Long, timeless minutes passed in this posture with no hints of stopping. It was only a rather unfortunate reminder to Lucius that he was no longer a strapping sixth year that forced him to set the amorous witch back to the ground. Hermione used the opportunity to pull the wizard to the cold, hard ground of the empty forest by his cloak. She wrapped her arms around his back and just held him in place. She'd forgotten how comforting and how safe she felt feeling this man's weight laid out on top of her figure. She held him close, inhaling his very distinctive and wonderful Lucius smell. He seemed amused by her sniffing his neck.

"I have missed you too, my love," he whispered, his voice hoarse and tight with an influx of emotion.

Lucius began to place soft, gentle kisses up and down her neck and jawline. His hands carefully graced her sides with limited pressure. He was being exceedingly gentle and Hermione was frustrated.

"We have the rest of our lives to make love to each other, my darling," she said, breaking his concentration. He started to pull himself up until her hands grabbed him to keep him in place. "What I meant was we have all the time in the world, but I don't want to wait any longer to feel you back inside of me."

Lucius needed no further encouragement. Mere seconds passed before Hermione's skirt was pushed above her waist and her knickers removed in one sharp tug. Hermione unbuttoned his trousers in record time. With a final look into Hermione's darkening, pleading eyes, Lucius slid into her with a hiss. Hermione closed her eyes the moment of connection for a second. When she reopened them to stare into the depths of her wizard's cool, grey eyes, she begged him to take her without opening her mouth. Their coupling was as desperate and frantic as their kisses had been. Hermione wrapped her slim legs around his back in an attempt to bring him even closer to her than he already was. Lucius gasped at the changes in the sensation, and they both knew that neither would be able to last long at this frenetic pace.

"I've missed you so much," she cried out between moans of pleasure.

"I am. Never. Letting you. Out of. My sight. Again."

"Pro – oh… mise?"

They both reached the precipice at the same time. It took very little encouragement for them to both tumble over. Hermione burst into another round of tears as Lucius completed above her. She tried to convince herself that she was simply overemotional because of her passion for Lucius, but her mind kept thinking back to another recent round of lovemaking that made her sick to her stomach.

 _Damn you, Antonin._

"Shh, shh, my darling," Lucius crooned, kissing her cheeks and running his hand through her unruly hair now filled with bits of leaves and a piece of a twig or two. "There is no reason to cry. I meant what I said. You are never getting rid of me again."

His words were meant to soothe, but they did not have the intended result. Lucius sat up and after a quick adjustment to both of their clothes, he pulled Hermione into his lap. He wrapped his cloak around them both. She sobbed once more into his chest. His past experience with distraught women taught him that the best course of action for him was to simply hold her close until she was done. Trying to force a woman to stop crying usually had the opposite effect if it did not simply make them angry.

Hermione cried until she felt her eyes burn. Lucius held her silently, but his encouragement did not need to be verbal. His warm hands caressing her body was all she needed to feel herself grow calmer. When the hiccups finally subsided, she looked up into the face of the man she had been desperate to return to for over three months.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked out. Lucius increased the pressure of his arms around her.

"There is nothing, _nothing_ to apologize for, Hermione. I cannot even begin to imagine what you have been through, my darling. Or rather, I _can_ imagine, but I hope I am wrong."

"I wasn't lying earlier. He never hurt me."

He seemed reluctant to believe her assertions that Antonin Dolohov hadn't once hurt her in over three months of captivity. How very un-Death Eater-like of him.

"He just wanted to play house with me."

"'Play house'?" Lucius raised a single eyebrow, obviously not understanding her reference.

"Like when we were children and we played like we were adults and had our own pretend house. Didn't you ever pretend you were married to a little girl and you emulated your parents?"

"No, I am afraid I was too busy pretending to fight dragons and chimaeras to play something as domestically boring as that."

He smirked at her and she remembered how much she loved when he teased her. Hermione kissed him gently on the mouth certain she would never get tired of feeling his lips pressed against hers.

"So what did this "playing house" with Antonin entail exactly?" Lucius asked, certain he didn't want to know all of the details.

"We lived together not unlike how you and I lived together in the manor in the beginning. I couldn't leave past the garden wall because I had one of those damned bracelets like the girls had in the Umbridge Home."

"He never hurt you?"

"No, Lucius, he didn't. I expected him to, but he told me that he simply wanted to keep me safe."

"That does not sound like Antonin at all. There are very valid reasons why so many of the Death Eaters are afraid of him."

Hermione sighed, rubbing gathering tension in her temples.

"I know it sounds crazy, but that's what he told me. After I woke up from the effects of the potion he gave me after that horrible bitch gave me a concussion…"

"What? A concussion? Who gave you a concussion?"

"Your _charming_ goddaughter the night I was taken. She attacked me after I pulled my wand on her after… after she murdered Sophie and Cassius."

Hot tears escaped from her eyes at the thought of the poor dogs' fates. Lucius wiped them from her cheek as they fell.

"I thought Rabastan was the one who did that," he said, his voice cracking with the emotion of the loss that was still fresh.

"No, Sophie tried to protect me from Isla."

"She was such a wonderful dog."

"Yes, she was. Isla killed Sophie and then Cassius came running into the room to check on his sister. He didn't do anything to deserve it, Lucius! He was whining and crying and nudging her body. Isla murdered him for the pleasure of it."

"Perhaps I should pay her back in kind."

"She's already dead. Earlier this evening before the wards fell at the Lestrange Manor, Rabastan cornered me in the hedge maze."

"I told…"

Hermione held up a hand to shut him up. She didn't need to hear a lecture on how he told her to never enter Rabastan's hedge maze for her own safety. It was pointless. She was aware of the danger she put herself in by doing so, but based on Rabastan's words and actions she was certain if he hadn't attacked her in the hedge maze, he would have attacked her somewhere else. He had been determined.

"He cornered me in the hedge maze. I don't have to explain what he planned to do to me."

Lucius entire body tensed at the thought of that disgusting man touching his beloved again. Hermione kissed him and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"He had me tied up and my shirt split open." She shuddered at the disturbing memory. It felt like a lifetime ago instead of a matter of maybe an hour and a half. "Isla and Antonin blasted through the hedges before he could really do anything more than just creep me out. Antonin slashed his throat open with a spell the moment he saw me. Rabastan was dead in seconds. While Antonin untied me and fixed my blouse, Isla was screaming. She turned her wand on me. Antonin tried to protect me but the first chance she got, Isla hexed me and then performed the Cruciatus Curse on me when I hit the ground."

Lucius' grasp on her body tightened at the news of an Unforgivable being used on Hermione.

"I'm all right, Lucius," she assured him. "It lasted only a few seconds before Antonin killed her."

"Well, it seems I have a great deal to thank Antonin for. I was unaware of his earlier heroics when he was trying to kill me."

"Why were you even there? How did you know where to find me?"

Lucius reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a rumpled piece of parchment. He thrust it into her hands. Dated the first full day she was in Rabastan's home, it was written by an unfamiliar hand.

 _Dear Draco,_

 _Your father's whore is staying at the Lestrange Manor. If the bastard isn't dead, please send him this way to pick the bitch up._

 _-Isla Lestrange_

Hermione laughed aloud at the terse note. Isla should be thankful she was already dead. If Antonin knew that she sent that note, she would've wished she was.

"She sent it to Hogwarts with the aid of a house elf," Lucius explained. "Draco was able to learn my location from Mr. Longbottom fairly easily. I waited outside those gates for days hoping I would see you. The gates were cloaked but as I'd been a guest there numerous times, I knew where to look. I saw Antonin return earlier this evening, but I left him alone because I wanted to wait until he brought you back out with him.

"Half an hour or so passed and quite suddenly the cloak fell off of the gates. I could physically feel the lowering of the wards. It was a little frightening, I admit. I was not sure what to expect."

"I'm so thankful you were there, Lucius."

"As am I, my darling."

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"That reminds me."

Lucius removed his wand from his robe pocket. Hermione couldn't help but notice it was new. No doubt Mr. Ollivander had to make him a new one when he became an Undesirable. With a broad smile on his face, Lucius muttered a familiar incantation and a breathtaking silver peacock burst out of the end of his wand. He called to the bird and gave it a message.

"I have her. She is safe. She is whole."

The peacock immediately strutted off into the rapidly darkening night sky. Hermione was impressed by his improvement and told him so.

"Thank you. I have had a very patient and rather good tutor," he replied. His eyes cut to her and narrowed. "Though if you ever tell anyone I said so I will deny it to my dying breath."

"You seemed pretty happy when you were preparing to cast your patronus," she said. "What were you thinking of? When your children were born?"

"No, but perhaps I should not admit that."

"I'm sorry. That was an extremely personal question. I shouldn't have asked."

"I think about that delicious noise you make every time you come."

Hermione laughed and then felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. That was certainly not at all what she was expecting.

"My previous attempts produced only passable patronuses. It was my tutor who suggested I recall one of my more _enjoyable_ lovemaking sessions. I thought of the first time I heard you make that sound and I have been improving ever since."

"That's, uhh, good to hear."

"His suggestion had merit. He said that while our children are certainly our greatest joys, they can also be our greatest pains. He should know of course, considering how many of them he has."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask who he was talking about, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a silver weasel floating in the air towards them.

 _"Excellent news! I've just informed Kingsley. Expect his patronus shortly. I can't wait to see you, Hermione!"_ The weasel spoke with the welcome voice of Arthur Weasley. Hermione almost cried for joy hearing it speak with a voice she'd given up ever hearing again. Suddenly Lucius' reluctance to admit his patronus tutor's virtues made sense. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one who had an interesting few months.

"Mr. Weasley?" she asked despite already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Arthur and I have spent quite a bit of time together since he escaped from Azkaban."

"And you're both still alive? I believe, my dear, that you have been making progress with more than just your patronus."

"He became very ill while in Azkaban," Lucius explained. "He would not have survived much longer if we had not liberated the prisoners. I was injured fairly seriously as well."

"I heard," she replied, kissing his mouth quickly. "I thought you were dead for a little while."

He clasped her frame to his broad chest, simply holding her close for a long time before continuing.

"Yes, well, I am sorry to report that you were almost right in believing so. There were several days that my condition seemed hopeless."

"Oh, darling!" She kissed him again to distract herself from the tears she was trying not to cry.

"Charlie Weasley was the one who found me. Since I have become known throughout the country as the wizard who saved your life twice and kept you hidden in my manor for months, my favor with the Weasley family has somewhat increased. I spent a month with Arthur recovering at the home of one of Molly's aunts."

"Not Muriel!" She almost choked on her laughter she tried to suppress.

"The very same," he answered stiffly. "The harridan nursed us both back to health in record time. We were anxious to get out of there."

"I don't blame you."

"She kept calling me Lucy and when I would protest, she told me to cut my hair."

Hermione snorted. Lucius looked offended.

"She told me that I have bad posture and skinny ankles."

"Ridiculous. I love your ankles."

"Where did you go after that?"

"Arthur and I were set up in a safe house that I am unable to tell you about. It is protected by the Fidelius Charm. It is something of a way station. Resistance members are always coming and going."

Kingsley's lynx suddenly appeared with a message for them to stay put. He promised to join them momentarily.

"Where are we exactly?" Hermione asked, not able to see any discerning landmarks past the trees.

"I am surprised you do not recognize it," he teased, placing another soft kiss on the top of her head. "This is where you dragged me that night in January."

"The Forest of Dean? I didn't even recognize it. You distracted me, Mr. Malfoy."

"I intend to do a great deal of that for the rest of our lives, Miss Granger."

His embrace tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him to meet her mouth with his. Their kisses were ardent enough that every distraction around them became nothing but soft background noise. Kingsley had to clear his throat several times before they were aware of his presence.

"Kingsley!" Hermione extricated herself from Lucius' tight embrace to place herself in another wizard's embrace.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting," Kingsley teased.

"What do you think?" challenged Lucius with a friendly smirk.

"And you were so worried about being stuck alone in a manor with this man," he continued to tease Hermione.

She pulled away from Kingsley's warm arms with a slightly reddened face.

"Yes, well, perhaps I was wrong," she conceded.

She stepped back and took her first good look at the former auror since he left her in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor so many months earlier. He looked positively dreadful. His clothes were wrinkled and hung off his thin frame. He'd lost even more weight since the last time she saw him. There were dark circles under both of his eyes and even though he was still smiling at her, the expression didn't quite reach his eyes like it used to. The months had been hard on her friend.

"How are you, Kingsley?" she asked, unsuccessfully hiding the concern in her tone despite her best efforts.

"Like everyone else, my dear girl, I am surviving."

"Only _surviving_?"

"It's not much, but it's more than can be said about so many of our loved ones."

His eyes shone with unshed tears. Hermione squeezed his midsection in another crushing hug. Kingsley placed a loving kiss on the top of her head and gently pushed her away from him. From out of one of his pockets he withdrew a thin piece of paper. With another almost smile he placed it in her hands.

"Memorize this, my girl."

 _The safe house of the Renewed Dumbledore's Army is located at Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinsworth, Cornwall._

She did not recognize the handwriting, but assumed it must belong to Bill Weasley since it was his home being used as the safe house. She remembered Bill had been the secret keeper for his home during the war. His wife and baby were living in France with members of Fleur's family. No doubt he wanted to offer what little he could to help the Resistance.

"Lucius will take you there," Kingsley said. "You may see me dropping by from time to time."

"I hope so."

Kingsley gave her one more big hug and placed one more kiss on her forehead before turning to shake Lucius' hand. He Disapparated soon after, leaving Hermione concerned about the drastic change in her friend.

"Poor Kingsley. He looks so defeated," Hermione said to Lucius when they were alone.

"Mr. Sloane's death has been quite hard on him, I am afraid."

"Ryan? How so?"

"Do you remember when you were nagging me about my behavior around Mr. Sloane?"

"Yes. I told you to stop trying to mark me as your property like a dog marks a fire hydrant."

"Yes, exactly. So eloquent. Well, as it turns out, I need not have worried. Ryan informed me one evening as we were all finalizing our plans for the attack on Azkaban that as attractive as he undoubtedly thought you were, that if he had to make a choice, _I_ was the one who struck his fancy more."

Hermione laughed at his admission. He smiled back at her with that confident smirk she had come to love.

"We were all passing a bottle of fire whiskey around after that, and everyone got a good laugh at my expense."

"So Ryan and Kingsley?"

Lucius nodded, his smile fell.

"Yes."

"What happened to him?"

Lucius seemed reluctant to answer her question, but she was tenacious. He knew that she wouldn't stop asking until he told her.

"A dementor was able to make it past the patronuses."

Hermione gasped, terrified to know the rest.

"When Kingsley was finally able to reach him, it was too late. Ryan was no longer. Kingsley cast the Killing Curse on him. No one should ever have to see their loved one in such a state."

She felt more hot tears run down her cheeks. Would she ever stop crying?

"Had they been together for very long?"

"They were introduced by Nymphadora years ago. I believe Ryan said they had been living together for five years."

"Poor Kingsley. It's sad. I've known him for a few years and we fought side by side, but I realize now I know next to nothing about the man."

"He is an exceedingly private man."

"Yes, but I never even thought to ask about his private life. It doesn't sound like the proper way for a friend to behave."

"Life is about learning from our mistakes, my darling."

Lucius kissed her once more. Hermione was certain she would never get tired of his lips pressed against any part of her body. He took her right arm and placed it firmly in the crook of his left elbow.

"I wish I could offer to take you home," he began. "But sadly, it is no longer safe for us there."

"I will be happy wherever we go, Lucius. Just as long as you are with me."

He smiled down at her before Apparating her away into the night for the second time that evening. Moments later they arrived on a sandy beach in Cornwall that Hermione was all too familiar with. She could see a light on inside the cottage on the hill above. Hermione shivered but she wasn't sure if it was the cool autumn air blowing off the ocean or the remembrance of the last time she arrived at this same cottage in the middle of the night.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Lucius sounded concerned. His eyes examined her face and it was apparent he was not liking what he saw.

"The last time I was here," she started to explain, but the emotions were choking her up. "Dobby brought me here after he saved us from the manor."

Realization of what she was saying dawned on Lucius and he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

"This is where you recovered after Bellatrix hurt you in my home."

His voice was deceptively void of any emotion, but Hermione knew him well enough to know he was trying his hardest to contain himself. She leaned up to capture his lips in what she hoped would be a reassuring kiss.

"Can you ever forgive me for the role I played in that?" he asked still unable to look into her eyes.

"I already have."

Lucius finally met her eyes and granted her a small smile. She was certain that this would not be the last time they had this conversation in their lifetime. He still felt an immense amount of guilt for the role he played in the last wizarding war, especially the events of the day that Hermione spent being tortured on the floor of his drawing room. Hermione took his hand in hers and started the short walk up to the cottage. It was late and she was exhausted. She was certain he was too if he'd been waiting outside of the Lestrange Manor gates for days.

The front door to Shell Cottage flew open when Lucius and Hermione were a few feet outside of the door. An overjoyed and quite thin Arthur Weasley greeted them both warmly. He took one look at Hermione, assured himself she was not an apparition, and gave her the biggest, warmest hug he'd ever given her before. She found herself crying yet again when the gentle, sweet man embraced her. He was the closest thing she still had to a father. She didn't realize how much she needed to experience his fatherly love until they stood in the doorway of the idyllic seaside cottage clinging to each other.

"Come in! Come in, Hermione," Arthur said in a genial tone. She could tell he was trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. "Lucius, welcome back."

The two wizards shook hands like old friends. Hermione was certain she was hallucinating just a little bit at the familiarity between the two former rivals. She remembered the day at Flourish and Blotts that she first laid eyes on Lucius and laughed. War did indeed make strange bedfellows.

"I have a pot of soup on the stove," Arthur announced, pulling her further into the warm, familiar cottage. "I wasn't sure when to expect you so it's been simmering most of the evening."

"Thank you, Arthur. I cannot speak for Hermione, but I certainly could use a hot meal."

Arthur led them both into the cozy kitchen. Two place settings were already on the table, waiting for a couple of diners. When Lucius and Hermione were seated across the table from each other, Arthur bustled around the kitchen in a fairly accurate imitation of his late wife. Using his wand he sent hot, fresh bread to the table, followed by bowls of delectable smelling soup. Lucius and Hermione fell silent while they ate their meal. Arthur hurried around cleaning up the kitchen and trying to keep some kind of discussion going.

"I have you both set up in the smallest bedroom," Arthur announced when he finally stopped moving enough to sit down at the table with them. "The other two bedrooms have been set up with several small beds for the random Resistance members that come to stay periodically."

"Where do you sleep, Mr. Weasley?" asked Hermione.

"Arthur. Please call me Arthur," he replied. "I've set up the attic for my use. It's too small for anyone else to use and it's quiet. Sometimes the quiet is exactly what I need."

His smile dropped off of his face for a few moments while he seemed lost in thought. He'd spent over a year locked up in Azkaban. Hermione was not surprised to find that he was still having a little trouble adjusting to the outside world. She didn't blame him for needing somewhere quiet to retreat to when the stress of the world got to be too much for him. She could certainly sympathize even without spending so long amongst the dementors.

"Thank you for dinner, Arthur," Lucius said as he stood up from the table. "If you both will excuse me, I believe I will take a hot shower before bed. It is getting rather late and I have not slept for many hours."

He unsuccessfully tried to smother a yawn. Hermione granted him a quick kiss and a promise to see him in their bedroom later. When Lucius exited the room, Hermione found being alone with Arthur to be more uncomfortable than she expected it to be. The older wizard smiled at her from the kitchen sink. Wanting to be useful, she gathered up all of the dirty dishes from the table to take to him. Arthur took them from her with a flick of his wand.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, unsure of what else to say to the man.

"You're welcome, my dear. Come sit back down at the table with me. I'll pour you some tea."

It wasn't a request and she got the feeling that he wasn't giving her the option to refuse. Hermione could only imagine what Arthur wanted to speak to her about, but it was obvious he had something on his mind. Several minutes later they were seated once more across the table from each other with a steaming cup of tea in their hands. Hermione waited for Arthur to begin the conversation.

"Are you sure you are all right, my dear?" he asked with the familiar fatherly concern that made her heart constrict. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she would not miss her father.

"I'm okay. Thank you."

"I can only imagine what you have been through these past few months. If you would like to talk about it, I would be glad to speak with you or if you might be more comfortable speaking to a woman..."

"Arthur, I'm okay," she assured him. "Antonin did not hurt me. I know it seems strange knowing who he is and what he has done in the past, but it's the truth. In fact, he saved me tonight twice; once from being assaulted and once from torture and possibly murder. It's bizarre, I know. He took care of me."

Arthur reached across the table to place a supportive hand over hers. With a quick squeeze he released her hand.

"I'm glad to hear that you are all right, my dear. We have all been so worried about you, especially Lucius. The poor man has been almost out of his mind with worry. He wanted to get out of bed much sooner than he was ready. Muriel and I had to resort to some fairly strong sleeping potions to ensure he would take the time necessary to heal his body."

"Thank you for taking care of him."

"Antonin Dolohov took care of you. I took care of Lucius Malfoy," he laughed. "The world has gone mad."

Hermione chortled at the thought. Arthur wasn't far off from the truth. Their world was nothing as it had been even just a year earlier. Voldemort changed everything and everyone he touched.

"It must seem awkward for me to be here with Lucius," she started, but a pressure on her forearm stopped her line of thinking.

"I know you loved my son, Hermione. I've known it for years. Ron would want you to move on and be happy, especially in a world as awful as this one can be at times. Yes, it is a bit surprising to know that you are with Lucius Malfoy, of all people, but it's not difficult to see the genuine feelings you two have for each other."

Embarrassed at the forthrightness of the kitchen table dialogue, Hermione found the floating leaves in the bottom of her tea cup fascinating all of a sudden.

"He spoke to me about you when we were both at Muriel's," Arthur continued. "I am as close to a father as you have living. I have considered you one of my own for years now, Hermione. Lucius wanted me to understand that he wasn't simply taking advantage of a naïve, young woman stuck alone in his manor with him. He told me how much he loves you. How he will spend the rest of his life making sure that you are protected and cared for."

"He said all of this to you?" She wasn't exactly surprised by the content of Lucius' words, simply the sounding board.

"Yes, we have been able to put our differences aside. Of course there are times when we still bicker. Don't expect that to ever fully go away, but we have come to a mutual respect and understanding. Perhaps one day we might even be friends. Crazier things have happened."

They exchanged smiles before Hermione dropped her eyes back to her tea.

"He cares a great deal for you, Hermione, and if you wish to continue to pursue any kind of relationship with him, I want you to know that my family, _your_ family, will support it despite our history."

Hermione rose from her seat at the table and wrapped her arms around Arthur. He held her close to him. She had not wanted to admit to herself that she was concerned how others would perceive her relationship with Lucius. It wasn't exactly a relationship that made sense to everyone else. She was grateful that Arthur was willing to provide her the support she did not realize she needed.

"Thank you, Arthur."

"Of course, my dear. Now, you have had a long night. I won't keep you up any longer."

"Good night."

He stood from his chair and kissed her forehead.

"Good night, Hermione. I am so thankful Lucius was able to find you."

Hermione climbed the narrow staircase to the first floor. The smallest bedroom was at the end of the corridor from what she could remember. She tried to banish the memories of the time she spent cooped up in the cottage with Ron, Harry and Griphook planning the Gringotts robbery. Those were stressful, scary times just like the ones she was living in again.

Lucius was waiting for her when she arrived in the room that had become theirs. His hair was wet and he was clad only in a pair of light pajama bottoms. When she entered the room, his face lit up in a warm smile. Hermione suddenly felt how exhausted she was.

"I am sure you will want to bathe before bed," Lucius said looking up from the thin newspaper he was reading when she walked in. "I laid out some pajamas for you in the bathroom and your beaded bag is in there too."

She'd managed to drop her beaded bag the night that Antonin took her from the manor. It felt awkward for her to not have it with her after so many, many months never going anywhere without it. She was glad that Lucius had the foresight to pick it up off of the drawing room floor after his duel with Rabastan.

"I have added some more items to it, of course," he continued. "After Rabastan and Isla attacked me that night I returned for Liverpool, I rushed around the manor filling it before I went on the run. You, my darling, are remarkable. That bag has been a lifesaver."

She kissed him and then headed into the bathroom next door. Laying on the countertop were Lucius' navy blue pajamas that she loved so much. She laughed at his prudence in packing the garments. After her blissful shower she slipped into the pajamas and joined Lucius in bed. He was still awake, still waiting on her return.

"Thank you for the pajamas," she said as she pulled the bedcovers up around her neck. "I love them."

"I love seeing you in them," he answered. "In fact, I would like to make a new rule that I expect you to abide by indefinitely."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You will only come to bed wearing my pajamas or nothing at all."

Hermione laughed and playfully swatted him on the arm. He turned the lamp next to the bed off before slipping under the covers with her. Lucius pulled her entire body up against his. He stifled a deep yawn and kissed her just behind her ear.

"I can hardly believe you are in my arms again," he whispered, a catch in his throat.

"What do you want to do when this is all over, Lucius?"

She was surprised by her question and couldn't be sure what prompted it. Lucius snuggled closer to her back. He took a few moments to think over his response.

"The very first thing I want to do is take you home. We would return to the manor and spend the first week entirely in bed."

"Oh, really? Are you certain you'd have the stamina for that?" she teased.

"A lot of that time would be spent sleeping, of course. I miss my bed almost as much as I missed you."

She giggled, but understood where he was coming from. He did have a fabulous bed.

"And then what? That's only one week."

"Then we would find Luna and bring her and my grandson back. They would live with us. She could raise her son in peace. Teach him all about blubbering plimpies and wrackspurts and crumple horned snorkacks to her heart's content."

She laughed again and her heart swelled with the sound of the chuckle behind her.

"And what about Draco?" she asked.

Lucius sighed.

"I would have him smile again. She could help him with that, don't you think?"

"I do."

"And what would you like for the future?"

"Your plans sound perfect."

"Are you certain you would not choose to add anything?"

"Well…"

"Yes?"

Hermione turned over to kiss him for the hundredth time that evening.

"I know for a fact that you make pretty babies."

Lucius did not seem to be expecting that response and laughed.

"Yes, my darling, I have been known to do so. Is that what you want?"

"Eventually. Let's do what we can to make this a world worth living in first."

Lucius kissed her deeply and a few moments later broke the contact.

"Do you mind if we wait until later to practice? I am very tired."

Hermione turned back around and snuggled back into his welcoming embrace.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty Four

Hermione woke to the familiar sounds of seagulls squawking in the distance and waves crashing on the beach. An open window blew in a salty scented breeze. She wasn't quite ready to get up yet. With her eyes closed firmly, she attempted to snuggle back into her pillow. When she yawned she felt a large, masculine presence push up against her back. Completely enveloped in large arms, she tried to ignore the hard pressure against her bum. _Men are all the same._ She felt gentle, hot kisses behind her ear and she groaned.

"Stop, Antonin," she begged. "I'm not in the mood this morning."

The moment the words came out of her mouth the kisses ceased. She was a bit surprised when she felt the man behind her relinquish his hold on her and get out of bed. Antonin was not usually so easily dissuaded in his early morning attempts to get inside her pajamas. It usually took him more than just asking him to stop.

Hermione's eyes popped open. She had been expecting the large, airy coastal themed bedroom decorated with cool blues and greens that she'd shared with Antonin. It only took her half a second to adjust her eyes enough to realize that the tiny, dark bedroom with the gold and red patchwork quilt was not the room she anticipated. She rolled over to look behind her and saw a scowling blond man that wasn't the dark haired wizard she expected.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed the moment she fully realized what she'd just said.

He didn't say a word to her. Simply gathered up a change of clothes and exited the room looking murderous. Hermione sat up in the small double bed, pulled her knees up to her chin and burst into tears all over her favorite pair of Lucius' pajamas. The previous night had seemed so much like a dream to her that part of her mind refused to believe Lucius had really found her and carried her off to somewhere safe. The sounds and smells of their little bedroom were so similar to the sounds and smells of Antonin's bedroom that in her semi-somnolent state, she assumed she was back in Antonin's seaside cottage. It was no wonder Lucius stormed out so deflated and angry. She would've done the same if Lucius called her another woman's name in bed.

Hermione dried her eyes on the long sleeves of the pajama top. She really was getting sick of crying all of the time. Emotions had their uses, but at times, especially lately, she wished she could flip a switch to turn them off. For most of her young life she'd been ruled by logic and her intellect. So much in her changed that horrid May day in the Great Hall that she'd simply been reduced to one of those simpering females always on the cusp of tears that she hated. She could only imagine what must've been going on with Lucius' mind when she so easily brought up the cool familiarity she had experienced while living with Antonin.

Should she tell him everything? She knew he was intensely curious about all she experienced while with Antonin. She couldn't blame him for his curiosity. If the roles were reversed, she would want to know what he experienced. Should she tell Lucius how Antonin never forced her to do anything she didn't want to do, but she was willing to do a lot more than she should have? If Lucius had not been so readily present in her mind when she was captured, she was certain that Antonin would have seduced her sooner and a lot more frequently than he had. Should she tell him what Antonin said to her about Stockholm Syndrome? How she probably would've fallen in love with him if Lucius hadn't arrived in time to save her in Inverness?

Hermione shook her head to clear out the myriad of disturbing thoughts that were threatening to take up permanent residence within her brain. Knowing it was usually better to face issues or potential issues head on, she climbed out of the lumpy bed to start her day and attempt to make up for the painfully awkward way it began. She rushed around the small room dressing in clothes she'd packed in her beaded bag. It felt strange being back in her Muggle clothing after so many months wearing the distinctively non-Muggle clothing Antonin ordered on her behalf from Madam Malkin. Dressed in her old clothes, she could tell how much weight she'd lost since her living on the run began two years earlier. Her reflection seemed to belong to a stranger at times.

The cottage was almost silent when she finally was dressed and finished her usual morning routine in the bathroom. Her stomach twisted in knots as she stepped down the narrow staircase. She had no idea what she was going to say to Lucius. If only she hadn't thought she was still with Antonin! How unbearably awkward! Arthur was seated alone at the kitchen table with a fresh pot of tea and the morning Daily Prophet.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted with a warm smile. "Care to join me?"

She couldn't say no to his smiling visage. They both sat at the table for several minutes without saying a word. Arthur undoubtedly had gotten used to not speaking often following his imprisonment. It was a characteristic Hermione had gotten used to living with Antonin for three months.

"Where is Lucius?" she finally asked hoping her tone sounded as casual as she meant it to.

Arthur lowered his newspaper and grinned across the table. His expression told Hermione all she needed to know about her tone. She wasn't fooling anyone. She was worried.

"He just popped down to the village for a bit," Arthur answered. "He said the fresh air would do him some good so I sent him off with a short shopping list."

Hermione finished the rest of her tea in silence. Arthur didn't seem to mind her reticence. Since his escape from Azkaban a cadre of well-meaning loved ones had steadily been driving him mad with their constant questions about his health and the strain of keeping up with so many people's worries about his well-being were taxing. As a Resistance safe house, meetings were held at Shell Cottage on a fairly regular basis. Though in many instances the Renewed Dumbledore's Army was still collectively licking the wounds they acquired at their successful campaign to free the innocent prisoners at Azkaban, many of their members were positively itching to move on to the next big struggle. Arthur was content at present to brew the endless pots of tea required for any planning meetings and remain in the shadows of the movement. Perhaps in time he might feel more inclined to take a leadership position. For now he was simply thankful for the historically loquacious young woman sitting across the table from him respecting his need for quiet.

"I think I will go down to the beach and take a walk," Hermione announced.

"Do you still have a wand?" asked Arthur.

"No, I'm afraid I don't. Antonin broke mine when he found out I had an elaborate plan to escape."

"I cannot allow you to leave the cottage without a wand."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest that she would not be forced into becoming a prisoner in yet another seaside cottage, but Arthur's sudden rise from the table and exit from the room prevented her words. Less than a minute later Arthur was back in the kitchen carrying a wooden box.

"We have some spares," he said, opening the box to reveal at least a dozen unfamiliar wands. "Pick one out. Maybe one will work just as well for you as your own."

Hermione hated the thought of using someone else's wand. It felt too intimate. She'd spent almost an entire year using Bellatrix's wand and hated every single moment of it. She held several of the wands from the box. One in particular stuck out in her mind. Approximately twelve inches and made of elm and with no clue what the core was, the wand felt almost as familiar and comfortable as her vine wood wand was.

"Whose wand is this?" she asked, holding the elm wand up.

Arthur looked a bit uncomfortable by her question.

"I'm not sure, Hermione."

"Where did they come from?"

"They are wands we've been able to recover from our fallen comrades."

Hermione resisted the urge to burst into tears again. The wands in front of her each represented someone who had died fighting against Lord Voldemort. It was humbling to hold a part of themselves as all wands are to their witch and wizard. It was obvious the elm wand chose her and she was determined to care for it out of respect for its former owner.

"I won't go far," Hermione promised Arthur before walking out the front door of the cottage.

She walked down the well-worn path to the beach. The weather was already changing. A chill was in the air now that it was mid-September. Autumn had always been her favorite time of year. The start of the school year, Halloween and all of the promises of another beautiful winter had never ceased to warm her heart. Fall, rather than springtime, always felt like the period of new beginnings of the year. As everything began to die, she could imagine their rebirth. It held the promise of renewal.

Hermione was grateful for the warm clothes she'd found in her beaded bag. They were comfortable, familiar and for the first time in a very long time, she was beginning to feel more like herself again. There was still an immense amount of fear within her to be sure. The war, despite the Ministry's vociferous assurances, was far from over. She still had loved ones who were putting their lives in constant danger for the promise of a world that simply had to be better than the one they were living in. She'd almost lost Lucius in the last battle. Remembering what it felt like in that dark period of time when she believed he was dead, Hermione felt her stomach twist and turn in knots once more. Yes, she would've been able to move on with her life without him. She was a strong, independent witch after all, but the flavor of life would've been bitter. She could not believe her good fortune that Lucius had been in the right place at the right time to take her out of Antonin's firm grasp.

And Antonin… He was still out there. Still imagining himself in love with her. She might have hurt him the night inside the hedge maze when she confessed that the two months she'd been pretending to care for him were simply a part of her scheme to free herself from his clutches, but she was no longer naïve enough to believe one lost duel would be enough to keep him from her. He was still a threat to her safety and security. Still a threat to her future with Lucius. One day she would have to face the wizard again. She knew she had not seen the last of him.

Her feet carried her back up the hill before she was even aware they had done so. She stopped in a grassy area to look down the hill at the landscape below. The cottage really was beautiful. During her first visit to Shell Cottage, she did not have the opportunity to really appreciate how picturesque the location really was. First, she had been stuck inside recovering from her torture at the hands of the madwoman and then with the stresses of planning the break in to Gringotts, her mind was otherwise occupied. She stood at the top of the hill for several minutes surveying the land below, watching the seagulls and other birds fly around the cottage, and the waves crash on the beach.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for several moments. The sun shone on her face and she began to feel a bit calmer. There would always be something in her life for her to worry about. The trick was to keep her mind occupied enough that the apprehension and concern did not take over her life. When she reopened her eyes, a small stone a few feet away caught her attention. In all of her own thoughts she had forgotten that Dobby's grave was only a short distance away. She walked over to the area to get a better look at the stone. In the almost eighteen months since his death, Dobby's grave marker had taken on a slightly weathered look that made it seem as if it been there much longer.

Hermione kneeled down at the grave. Grass and wildflowers had grown over the area. She traced the words on the stone with her fingers. Without the actions of that extraordinary elf, she could very well have died that horrible day in Lucius' drawing room. It was hard to believe that it had only happened such a short time before. She would never forget the strangely wonderful creature that had loved Harry with such an intensity that he had given his life to save him and his friends. Yet again, her eyes filled up with tears. She covered her face with her hands and allowed herself to cry unashamedly.

A short time passed before she felt a pair of warm, familiar hands on her shoulders. She didn't even have to look around to know who was behind her. His mere presence was strong enough that she knew when he was near. Hermione permitted herself a few more moments to cry before turning around to face Lucius. He was crouched behind her, staring at the grave marker with a peculiar expression on his face.

"He saved my life," she said, leaning back into his chest.

Lucius placed a kiss on the top of her head and squeezed her shoulders.

"Then I will forever be grateful for him," Lucius whispered into her ear. He kissed her again right above her ear.

Several minutes passed where neither of them said a word to the other, but Lucius never took his hands off of Hermione. She understood that despite the events of that morning, he was still with her. Finally feeling a stiffness in his legs, Lucius rose from the position he was crouched in. He assisted Hermione to her feet.

"Would you care to go for a walk with me?" he asked, nervous that she was going to reject him.

"Yes, but give me another moment please."

Hermione removed her new wand from her jeans pocket. With a quick wave of it, a large bouquet of stunning white lilies appeared on the ground in front of Dobby's grave marker. Satisfied with her conjuring, she took Lucius' offered arm and headed back down to the beach with him. Neither said anything until their feet hit the sand.

"Lucius, I am very sorry about this morning," Hermione finally said to break the tension. It had been her fault after all. She had been the one to ruin the moment when they woke up.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling," he replied, sighing slightly in frustration Hermione could sense he was trying to hide from her.

"Of course I do, Lucius. Stop trying to be magnanimous for one bloody minute."

A quiet, indelicate snort escaped from her blonde wizard at her comment.

"I am certain that that word has never been used to describe me before."

"Yes, well, I have a lot of other words I could use to describe you that are not as lovely. Would you like me to start listing them?" she teased.

Lucius stopped walking to pull Hermione into a warm embrace against his firm chest. She snuggled into the familiar warmth of the man. Sometimes for all of her Gryffindor bravery, she could be a right coward. She couldn't bear to look up into his piercing grey eyes just then. She wasn't sure she could bear to see the pain that had been present earlier that morning after calling him Antonin. It was a slight she wished she had never committed.

"I was afraid last night was a dream," she admitted, keeping her gaze on his sleeve. "When I woke up this morning…"

"Darling, please stop. You do not need to apologize."

"What do you want to know?" she asked with enough nerve to meet his eyes finally.

"What are you asking?"

"What do you want to know?" she repeated. "About the past three months. I will answer whatever question you have for me. Anything."

And she truly meant it. She no longer wanted to keep secrets from the man standing against her. They would never be able to create any kind of lasting future together if he was constantly wondering what she had experienced while in the clutches of Antonin Dolohov. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

"You do not have to tell me anything, Hermione."

"Lucius, no. Ask me what you want to know. I know you must have a thousand questions. In your position, I know I would!"

He broke the embrace between them to step away. Lucius stared off into the expanse of the ocean and took several deep breaths. Hermione could see the pain he was experiencing in the set of his shoulders and the clenching of his hands into fists. She knew that he had been in fear for three months that she was trapped inside a prison with a sadistic torturer who wanted nothing more than to break her and hurt her. No wonder Arthur and Muriel had to resort to sleeping potions to keep the man in bed to heal. Hermione felt certain that if she knew he was stuck experiencing a similar fate that nothing could keep her from doing everything in her power to find him and release him from it.

"I want to know one thing," he finally said after long minutes of nervous tension. This time it was he who could not meet her eyes. "Did Antonin make you do anything that you did not want to do?"

 _No_ , she thought. It was the true answer, but she did not know if she wanted to tell him so. She couldn't explain why exactly. It seemed to Hermione that if she admitted that she had allowed everything to happen to her while she was stuck in Antonin's cottage, then she was guilty of so much more than just a simple betrayal of the man she loved. She was guilty of betraying herself and that was harder for her to stomach.

"No, Lucius," she answered. "He never made me do anything that I did not want to do."

Lucius seemed relieved by her answer. At that moment in time he was not interested in learning more about what happened in those three months. They had the rest of their lives to discuss that period of time. He could wait to find it all out later. Lucius took Hermione by the hand and pulled her back into his arms.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he announced softly into her hair. "I have loved you from the moment you walked into my kitchen on your first night in the manor wearing my pajamas. You took my breath away and I knew right then that I would spend the rest of my life doing whatever it took to keep you safe."

"Lucius…"

"I failed you that night."

"No," she protested.

"Yes, I did, my love. I was not there to keep you protected. They came into _my_ home and took you."

Hermione pushed herself backwards off of his chest to look him directly in the eyes. Tears were streaming down his face. She felt so helpless seeing him so heartbroken.

"Lucius, my darling, please. You did not fail me. You were protecting your family. You were making certain that your grandson and the woman your son loves were protected."

"I should have never left you there alone."

She placed both of her hands on his cheeks to force him to meet her eyes.

"I am all right, Lucius," she assured him with a shaking voice. "You did not fail me. Sometimes things happen that are outside of our control. I should have been more careful that night. I let Rabastan _confound_ me. If I had only been paying more attention…"

He shut off her protests with a desperate kiss. They stood clinging to each other on the cold, sandy beach for what seemed like an eternity. Neither of them wanted to break the contact with the other. Lucius was finally the one who pushed his witch away to continue their disagreement.

"This morning I was so angry that I had to leave," he admitted. "I had to get out and walk off some of that anger."

"I'm so sorry, Lucius. I didn't mean to make you angry."

"No, Hermione, you misunderstand me. I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself. Angry that I failed to keep you protected. Angry that because of my failures you were alone with that man for months. Absolutely incensed that I was unable to prevent him from being in a position where he felt he had the right to touch you!"

"Lucius, darling, please. I'm all right. Please let's just move forward. I don't want the past three months to interfere with us enjoying the rest of our lives together."

While it was obvious that Lucius could see the sense in her argument, he was well aware of the fact that this was not the last time they would have this discussion. This would not be the last time that he cursed himself for being unable to prevent her from being taken from his manor by Antonin Dolohov. This discussion was not complete, but he wanted to respect her wishes. He shook his head and kissed his witch once more.

"All right, my darling. We will move forward."

They returned to the cottage hand in hand without saying another word about what had just happened. Arthur met them once more at the front door of the cottage when they arrived. He was headed out.

"Meeting tonight," Arthur announced. "I'm just going to pop back down into the village for some more supplies. We'll be meeting about eight."

Once inside the empty cottage, Lucius spun around to face Hermione. He never even had to say a word. She pulled him upstairs by the sleeve of his shirt. Neither of them was going to waste the opportunity to _reconnect_ in the short period of time they knew they would be alone before Arthur returned. If there was to be a meeting that night, they knew they were likely to be limited on time.

Later that afternoon as the two lovers were entwined on their bed in the smallest bedroom enjoying a well-deserved nap, Hermione suddenly sat up straight in bed. Lucius reacted to her abrupt movement by leaping out of bed with his wand raised. She had to force herself to bite down the laughter that was bubbling up inside of her at the sight of the naked man ready to do battle.

"What is it, Hermione?" he groaned, climbing back in bed thoroughly annoyed.

"I just had a thought," she replied.

"And you felt you had to frighten me half to death like that?"

"I'm sorry.

She kissed him on his nose. The scowl on his face did not lessen.

"Did you give your house elves clothes?"

His scowl became a harsh glare.

"You woke me up from a relaxing nap to ask me about my house elves?" Lucius was not amused.

"Yes, did you give your house elves clothes? When You-Know-Who made you give up your servants, did you actually present them with clothes?"

"No, the only creature I have ever freed in that manner was the house elf Dobby and that was only accomplished with trickery on the part of your friend Harry Potter."

Hermione smiled broadly at the news and granted Lucius another kiss in the excitement.

"That's wonderful news, Lucius!"

The wizard was thoroughly confused and told her so.

"If you didn't give your house elves clothes when You-Know-Who took them away from you, then they are still bound to your house. They are still loyal to you."

"I don't understand what you are getting at, Hermione. They have all been working at Hogwarts Castle since the Dark Lord ordered me to send them there to repair the castle following the final battle."

"Do you see what I mean? _You_ ordered them to leave the manor, not him."

"No, I am afraid I still do not understand what you are getting at."

"You are just proving my point, Lucius! Wizards and witches have been guilty for centuries of not understanding or respecting the magic of house elves. They are very often overlooked or even completely forgotten about," she continued, growing more passionate by the moment. "You-Know-Who proved that he doesn't really understand house elves when he used Kreacher to help him with his horcrux. Because You-Know-Who didn't have the proper understanding or respect for Kreacher, he unknowingly gave him the knowledge to find and destroy one of his horcruxes that he was able to pass on to Regulus Black!

"Most wizards believe that house elves are beneath their notice, so they don't even realize when a house elf is in the same room. Think about Dobby! He heard your plans for opening the Chamber of Secrets because I'm certain you never even thought twice about what you said or did in his presence. He wasn't important enough to notice. I'm sure that all of your house elves know your family's darkest and most private secrets."

"Hermione!" He almost shouted her name out to get her to cease her rambling for a moment. It seemed to work. "Please explain to me what you are going on about. What is the significance in whether or not my house elves are still loyal to me? It does not seem that it matters to me seeing as they were ordered to stay in Hogwarts and even if they were not, I no longer have access to my family's manor."

"Do you have a house elf that is most loyal to you? Maybe one you've known your entire life or one who is in a position of authority with your other elves?"

"Tildie was the one that ran the household," he replied. "She has been taking care of Malfoys since my father was a child."

Hermione was giddy with excitement that Lucius was certainly not sharing. He was still too confused.

"Can you summon her?" Hermione asked.

"I am not sure. We are fairly far away from Hogwarts."

"Please try."

Lucius clapped his hands twice and called out Tildie's name. Several seconds passed before both of the inhabitants in the room jumped at the sound of the unexpected Apparition. A tiny, elderly house elf dressed in a tea towel marked with the crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked around the room with large, round eyes. She seemed to be as astonished by her sudden appearance in a cottage she'd never seen before as Lucius was for her arrival. The moment Tildie's eyes landed on Lucius she burst into loud, shrieking tears.

"Master Lucius! Tildie thinks she never sees you again!" Tildie threw herself down on the bed to grasp Lucius' legs hastily covered by the bedcovers. "Tildie wishes to come home, Master. She is tired of living with all of the bad wizards and nasty children."

Lucius pleaded silently with Hermione for any indication of what to say to the distraught elf. Hermione squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Tildie, stop crying at once," he ordered. The elf fell silent immediately. At least it was clear to everyone in the room that she was still compelled to follow her master's direct orders. The thought was encouraging to Lucius and Hermione. "Tildie, do you ever see the Dark Lord?"

Tildie's round eyes widened and big, fat tears filled them. She was obviously terrified.

"Tildie, answer me at once," Lucius voice was firm, but Hermione was pleased to hear that he was not unkind.

"Yes, Tildie sees the Dark Lord. Sometimes she has to clean his rooms or take him potions."

"Tildie, do you really wish to return home?"

"Yes, Master! Yes, Tildie does. All of the elves of the House of Malfoy do. We is all very unhappy, Master."

Hermione smiled at the elderly elf. Unused to such displays, Tildie stared.

"If you wish to return home, then I need you to do something for me, Tildie."

"Anything, Master!"

"I want you and the other Malfoy elves, _only_ the Malfoy elves, to keep watch on the goings on in the castle. I want you to find out what is happening with the Dark Lord, Tildie. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course, Master! No one ever sees Tildie."

Before Lucius sent his elderly house elf back to the Hogwarts Castle to organize her spy ring amongst the ten remaining Malfoy house elves, Lucius gave her instructions to keep tabs on the leaders of the school, including the Dark Lord. He advised the emotionally distraught elf that he would be summoning her from time to time to check on her progress. Tildie burst into at least three separate rounds of tears before she was finally given a direct order to leave. When the sound of the Disapparation dissipated, Lucius turned to Hermione with a large smile on his face.

"You, my darling, are a genius," he laughed. "I never would have thought to use the elves in that way."

"Like I said before, Lucius, most wizards and witches are guilty of ignoring their house elves. I did a lot of research about them when I was organizing S.P.E.W."

Lucius raised a single eyebrow at the acronym and despite the fact that he really wanted to know more about the organization, he did not ask. His instincts told him that it was best to move forward.

"Tildie should be able to provide us with some basic information about what really happens in the castle without the Dark Lord being aware," Lucius said. "I will mention your idea in tonight's meeting. I am sure that the other members of the Resistance will be interested to hear your plan."

And indeed the Resistance leaders were interested. Arthur clapped his hands and kept repeating the word "Brilliant" over and over again. Kingsley was pleased and spent a good half an hour speaking with Lucius and Hermione after the general meeting with several questions and even suggestions of what kind of activity to have the elves spy on. George rolled his eyes when he heard that Hermione was once again involved in the fight for Elvish welfare, but even he had to concede that it was an idea that had merit.

Hermione felt positive about her role in the war for the first time since she was involved in the final battle. Finally it seemed that there was something she could do to contribute to the Resistance. Each week she and Lucius met with Tildie to go over what information she and her crew of house elves were able to learn. She was able to provide detailed schedules of just about every single adult within the castle. She had been privy to some of the Inner Circle Death Eater meetings held periodically within Lord Voldemort's private chambers in the dungeons. So far she had not learned anything particularly useful in those meetings, but Hermione remained positive that it was only a matter of time before she turned up something valuable.

Weeks passed within Shell Cottage before Hermione was aware. She'd managed to keep herself so busy with activity in helping Arthur keep the safe house clean and comfortable for visiting Resistance members or with helping Lucius figure out plans on how to utilize his elves to the best of their abilities that she wasn't even cognizant of being out of Antonin's clutches for seven whole weeks.

"Good morning, Hermione," Arthur greeted the morning after Halloween. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione stretched her arms above her head, but couldn't quite get a bit of stiffness out of her back. She yawned and seated herself at the table next to Arthur.

"I know I should be thankful that I'm safe and with Lucius, Arthur, but that bed is bloody awful," she complained. "My back has been hurting and it seems that no matter how much sleep I get, I am always exhausted."

Arthur gave her a strange look, but he soon changed his expression.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, offering her some of the bacon he'd just cooked.

"No, thank you," she replied, pulling a disgusted face at the meat underneath her nose. "I think that bacon's gone a bit off, Arthur. It smells awful."

Arthur pulled the plate of bacon under his nose to take a big sniff. He didn't notice anything strange about the smell. Curious about Hermione's reaction, he moved the plate of bacon back in her face. She immediately made a gagging sound and rushed quickly out of the room. Arthur was an intelligent and observant man who had been around his wife for six separate pregnancies and he was certain he knew the signs when he saw them. He rose from the table to cross the lounge to the small loo at the base of the stairs. The sounds of retching passed easily through the door. When he heard the toilet flush and the sink running, he moved in front of the door. Hermione was surprised to find him standing in her way.

"Excuse me, Arthur." She tried to walk past him, but a gentle pressure on her arm from his hand stopped her.

"Hermione, I'm sorry to do so, but I need to ask some impertinent questions."

Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed.

"How long have you been getting sick like that?"

"Just about a week or two," she answered. "I may be coming down with some kind of stomach flu."

"I'm very sorry to ask, Hermione, but are you noticing any tenderness in your…"

He motioned to her breasts (which he had already noticed were just a little bit bigger than they had been previously) with his finger and his cheeks flushed crimson. Hermione's mouth dropped open. Her own cheeks competed with Arthur's for who could be redder.

"And I'm very sorry, Hermione, but when was the last time that you… that you… _bled_?"

Hermione exploded into violent sobs at his question. She had been noticing changes for a few weeks, but had been hoping and praying she was wrong. Arthur wrapped his arms around the sobbing witch. He ran his hand down the back of her hair in the same soothing gesture he'd always done for a distraught Molly or an upset Ginny.

"No, no, no, no, no," Hermione cried. "I can't be. I just can't be."

"Shh, my girl, you will be all right. It's not exactly ideal timing, but Lucius has already made it very clear that he loves you. He may be thrilled at the news."

Hermione's sobs only grew louder at Arthur's words. Confounded for a moment by her reaction, Arthur stopped to think about why she would be so upset. Immediately he felt sick in his own stomach.

"There there, sweet girl, I'm sure it will all turn out all right." Even Arthur wasn't confident in his assurances.

"No, Arthur, it won't. How can I possibly tell Lucius that it might not even be his?"

She burst into another round of tears while Arthur continued to stroke her hair and give her false promises that everything would turn out just fine in the end.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty Five

Lucius came running down the stairs of the cottage the moment he heard Hermione burst into loud, gut-wrenching sobs on the ground floor. She had been unusually emotional lately, but he could not exactly blame her after what she had been through the previous two years. It had seemed to him that she was finally breaking a bit from the strain. He was in a constant state of worry about her well-being. When he finished dressing for the morning and stepped out of the tiny, cramped bedroom he shared with his witch, the sound of her cries wafted up his ears. He was downstairs in two seconds flat.

"There there, sweet girl, I'm sure it will all turn out all right." Arthur was holding a sobbing Hermione in his arms and stroking her hair in a well-meaning attempt to calm her down.

"No, Arthur, it won't. How can I possibly tell Lucius that it might not even be his?"

Hermione's words pierced through his protective covering straight to his vulnerable core. They echoed inside his brain until they were all jumbled together. He'd had his suspicions in the previous week, but assumed he was overanalyzing her behavior. She had every right to cry when she felt like crying and all of the meetings with the Resistance had simply stressed her out to the point that she did not feel like eating. Grief and fear would make anyone exhausted. Every single symptom that he had picked up on was easily explained away.

Arthur met Lucius' eyes over the back of Hermione's bushy head. The older wizard's expression of shock and concern cut Lucius to the quick. He could only imagine what his own expression on his face must look like.

"Hermione?"

* * *

At the sound of her name, Hermione jerked her head out of its refuge in the crook of Arthur's arms. She tried to smile at Lucius with a reassuring grin that she was all right, but it was no use. He looked like he was going to be sick. In that moment she knew that her secret was no longer a secret.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Lucius asked, his voice cracking with some unknown emotion. Fear? Anger? Sadness? She had no clue.

"Yes, Lucius, I'm just fine."

The moment the lie crossed her lips she began to sob again. There just was simply no way she could lie about something so huge to the wizard she loved. He knew her too well and his penetrating gaze made her feel exposed and defenseless. Arthur relinquished his hold on her person the moment Lucius made a step in her direction. Mere seconds passed before she was once more in a crushing embrace. Lucius squeezed her tiny frame to his larger one. She cried into his chest, not caring that there was still an audience in the person of Arthur Weasley standing just inches away.

"If you both will excuse me," Arthur began. "I promised George and Angie that I would pop by their new house this morning. Don't wait up for me. I will probably just sleep there tonight."

Arthur slipped out of the cottage without a single word of protest against his actions. Lucius and Hermione were hardly even aware he was gone. They stood in the middle of the lounge clinging to each other for long minutes. Hermione's tears finally ceased flowing enough for her to look up into Lucius' stormy eyes. His expression made her feel the urge to vomit yet again that morning. She wasn't certain she could bear to know what he was thinking or feeling. She could hardly bear her own emotions. Taking his on as a burden as well was simply overwhelming.

"Hermione," Lucius whispered her name for lack of something else to say. "Hermione, can I get you something?"

"A time turner," she answered, dropping her eyes back to her feet. His eyes were too raw to contemplate looking in for too long. Much like staring in the sun, she knew she would be forever altered if she allowed herself to keep her focus on those impenetrable, grey globes.

"Something feasible?" he asked, a hint of tease in his tone for just a moment. "A cup of tea? Or some breakfast?"

"No, thank you."

Lucius grasped her right hand in his left to steer her over to one of the comfortable sofas near the fireplace. Hermione followed him without protest. She was at a complete loss how to behave or what to expect. They settled down on the sofa next to each other, their thighs touching in a tableau reminiscent of their many nights in Lucius' study in the beginning of their relationship when they wanted to be near each other but did not know how to do so. Hermione stared at the empty fireplace hoping and praying that inspiration would strike her and she would know exactly what she needed to say to comfort Lucius. Likewise Lucius stared at Hermione hoping and praying that inspiration would strike him as to what he should say to comfort his distraught witch. Neither of them said a word for at least twenty minutes.

"I can't stand this anymore, Lucius!" Hermione finally shouted when the silence got too much for her. "Aren't you going to yell at me? Or break something? Curse Antonin and storm out of the house to track him down and finish the duel you started seven weeks ago?"

Lucius watched Hermione pace the lounge area while she rambled on. He knew her well enough to know that she was terrified and anxious. Knew that she needed a few minutes to get it all out of her system before they could sit down and have the real conversation they needed to have. Hermione could not sit still and became very frustrated with Lucius for not speaking.

"Don't you have anything to say to me, Lucius?" she demanded. " _Anything?!"_

"Hermione, darling, please come back here and sit down," he finally answered. "You do not need to get yourself so worked up."

She couldn't argue with his logic and she really was exhausted. When Hermione sat back down on the sofa next to him, Lucius took her hand in both of his in an attempt to provide her with any amount of encouragement.

"Obviously you overheard what Arthur and I were talking about earlier," she said to fill up the uncomfortable stillness.

"Yes, I did. Is this morning the first time you suspected that you might be…" He cleared his throat, unable to say the word.

"Pregnant?" she blurted out for him in an exasperated manner. "Is this morning the first I suspected that I might be pregnant? Just say the bloody word, Lucius!"

"All right," he conceded in order to head off another potential rambling session. "Is this morning the first time you suspected that you might be _pregnant_?"

Hermione released a loud and dramatic sigh.

"I don't know," she replied. "I've been feeling weird for a little while now."

"A week? Two weeks? A month? Longer?"

She could tell that Lucius was attempting to do some quick math in his head, but she wasn't entirely sure.

"Maybe a better question to ask is…" He started to speak and hesitated. Hermione pleaded silently with her tear-filled eyes to continue. "How long were you and Antonin intimate?"

Lucius appeared as if he were the one about to be sick when he finished his question. Hermione wished she could melt away into a puddle underneath the sofa cushions. She knew that there would be a moment in time when Lucius would ask her that question or some variation of it, but she was not ready for it that morning on an upset, empty stomach.

"It only happened once," she answered.

His grey eyes widened and stared at her in disbelief. Hermione met them in a steely gaze of her own. She was beginning to feel the tiniest prick of her dormant Gryffindor courage emerge.

"Only once?" he asked.

"Yes, only once. About three days before you found me."

"Why did it only happen once? I must admit I assumed that the entire time you were with him he was…" Lucius could not complete his thought aloud.

"Antonin promised me on my first night in his cottage that he would never rape me," she explained. "After three months, I had a moment of weakness."

"You do not need to explain further, Hermione."

"No, I want you to know. I _need_ you to know."

Hermione removed her hand from Lucius' grasp. If she was going to come clean, she wanted the ability to exit the immediate area if he became upset.

"The first night I was conscious in his home I fell asleep on his sofa. There was only one bedroom and one bed so when I didn't come in by one or so in the morning, Antonin came out to the living room to wake me up. I told him that I was going to sleep on the sofa, but he picked me up to carry me to the bedroom. I was afraid he was going to rape me. I was honestly surprised it hadn't already happened by then. I screamed and kicked him so hard that he dropped me. He was upset, but when he realized that I was afraid he was going to assault me, he told me that he had never raped a woman in his life and he certainly wasn't going to start with me."

"I had no idea Antonin was such a gentleman," Lucius replied, his tone sarcastic and cold.

"Yes, well, he didn't rape me that night or any other night. He seemed more interested in seducing me and I have to admit that it almost worked on many occasions. I'm not proud to admit that, Lucius, so quit glaring at me like that!"

The wizard was not aware that he had been scowling at her during her explanations of the events of her captivity. He struggled to take control over his features, but tried to do so in order to appease his witch.

"After Azkaban, after I heard that you were severely injured and probably dead I became so lost, Lucius," she continued. "I could hardly recognize myself. I can't tell you the number of days that I did nothing but lay in bed all day long. Antonin would force me to eat and he would try to coax me out of bed, but it rarely worked.

"I came up with this elaborate plan to escape while I lay in bed for so many days during those difficult weeks. It was a very good plan even if I am the one who has to admit so. Just had one major flaw."

"What was that?" he asked.

"Gregory Goyle."

Lucius winced at the sound of the young man who followed his son around for seven years of schooling.

"I will admit, my dear, I was very surprised to find out that young Goyle was able to exchange messages between us when you were first captured. How did you manage to do that, may I ask?"

"He owes me a life debt."

Lucius exhaled. He understood the ramifications of what is expected of one when they owe another a life debt. It was never something that should be taken lightly.

"I'd figured out a way to use Muggle satellites to give you my geographical coordinates," she expounded. "All I needed was for Greg to take one more message to Draco for me. Just one more."

"And he betrayed you."

"Yes, he turned the note over to Antonin. I didn't know that, of course. I just assumed that you were unable to receive my message because you were dead or still too injured. After six days of waiting, I was certain that no one would ever look for me again. Certain that I was stuck there forever with Antonin."

"And that is when Antonin…"

"Yes!" Hermione wouldn't allow him to complete the sentence. It was bad enough that he knew the truth without him actually voicing it. "I was bloody miserable and I had just spent two months pretending like I was falling for the man. It was bound to happen."

Lucius ignored her last comment.

"How did you end up at Rabastan's?"

"When Antonin realized that I was trying to escape, he asked one of his Death Eater mates to come over and pretend to break into the cottage in the middle of the night. He made it seem like it was you. He really is cruel."

Lucius grabbed her hand in his again.

"He took me to Rabastan's so he could reconfigure the wards and make it more secure. I upset him the first night and he didn't come back until just before he killed Rabastan and Isla."

"How did you upset him?"

"I admitted that my feelings for him were not genuine. That I had been lying to him for months. He was really hurt."

"I somehow doubt Antonin Dolohov has the capacity to feel such human emotions as that."

"No, Lucius, I'm serious. He fancies himself in love with me. That's why he never hurt me. When he found out that I was only pretending to care about him, he got very upset."

He desperately wanted to change the subject away from whether or not Antonin was truly in love with Hermione.

"So it only happened one time with Dolohov?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And that happened just a few days before you and I made love on the ground of the Forest of Dean?" He smirked his deliciously sexy smirk at the memory which caused Hermione to both blush and burst out into tiny, quiet giggles.

"Yes."

"And you and I have since put quite a bit of stress on that poor, lumpy mattress upstairs, have we not?" His smirk was still plastered across his face.

"Yes." She laughed again, feeling her mood lighten considerably.

"Then my darling, the odds are in our favor that this child is indeed mine."

She knew he was right. Statistically speaking, Lucius was more likely to have fathered the child she now knew for certain was growing within her womb. Despite knowing that simple fact, however, she could not get her mind to stop imagining the worst case scenario. Hermione wished that she would one day learn how to be an optimist. They always seemed like much happier people.

"But, Lucius, what if it's not?" She couldn't leave this simple question left unasked or unanswered.

Lucius kissed the top of her head.

"Then my darling Hermione, there will be a dark haired Malfoy in the family for the first time in several generations and the world will not end."

At the knowledge that despite its true paternity, Lucius was willing to claim her child as his own, Hermione burst into tears for the countless time that morning. He pulled her to his chest and let her cry until she could cry no longer.

* * *

The next two weeks passed with very little excitement. Hermione's first lesson of living within the safe house of the Resistance was very similar to the first lesson she learned living in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix: fighting a war was a few hours of intense action and weeks or months of complete, utter boredom. Hermione's internal nesting instinct began to take over the more she was stuck inside Shell Cottage. Months of being unoccupied after Fleur and Bill fled to France following the defeat at Hogwarts, the cottage was in need of a great deal of tender loving care. Arthur had been attempting to keep the cottage clean on his own since he and Lucius moved in after escaping from Aunt Muriel's clutches, but he was as effective a housekeeper as he would have been a Muggle postman.

She spent her days scrubbing the entire cottage from top to bottom. Some days were more interesting than others, but it was quickly becoming obvious to Hermione that if she did not get out of the cottage soon, she was going to go stark raving mad. Lucius treated her like she was a glass doll ready to break at every moment. It was both endearing and infuriating. She was grateful for Arthur. He treated her no different than he had before they all learned she was expecting. No doubt it was because after Molly's multiple pregnancies he was aware that carrying a life within her did not mean she was an invalid. Lucius' constant hovering was exasperating.

"Hermione, dear, Kingsley has asked us to meet him in London," Lucius announced over breakfast in the middle of November.

She jumped up from the table with a burst of excitement.

"Just give me a few minutes to get changed," she replied, heading out the door.

Lucius stopped her before she made it past the doorway.

"No, I am sorry, I meant that he has asked _Arthur_ and myself to meet him."

"May I come?" She was almost willing to beg to join them.

"Not this time, I'm afraid," Arthur answered the moment he joined them inside the kitchen. "It's top secret. He wouldn't tell us what it was about, but he specifically said that _only_ Lucius and I were to go."

Hermione sighed with a bit more enthusiasm than she initially intended. She was certain that now that the key leaders of the Resistance were aware of her condition (verified naturally by a Muggle pregnancy test and the tricky pregnancy detection charm), they were actively preventing her from taking a larger role in the preparations for their next big planned offensive. She began to understand Hannah's frustrations of the previous several months until she gave birth to little Frank. Now with the baby safe at their usual safe house in the hands of one of the other members, Hannah was able to take a more active role when necessary.

"I was hoping that you would take me to London soon, Lucius," she said after she sat back down in her earlier vacated chair.

"Why?" he asked looking confused and perhaps a touch annoyed. "What do you need to do in London?"

"I wanted to visit my parents' house. There are still some things there that I want to get."

"Perhaps if we return early you and I can visit the house," he suggested with a tone that Hermione found no confidence in.

Lucius kissed Hermione goodbye. Moments later both wizards exited the cottage leaving her once again completely alone. She really was getting tired of always being left behind while everyone else around her had the freedom to move about as they wished. Lucius and Arthur were frequently gone from Shell Cottage on missions for the Resistance. Hermione was never invited. She was not even invited before she found out she was pregnant. It was those months hidden away in Malfoy Manor all over again. The Resistance did not need her.

She sat at the kitchen table long after her cup of tea went cold. It was still early, noon hours away. She pushed away from the table and headed upstairs to get dressed. There were still some cabinets in the kitchen that needed to be scrubbed and reorganized. She hoped by the time she completed the mind-numbing task, Lucius would be back.

The kitchen was completely clean in less than an hour. All of the laundry was done. The dishes from breakfast had been washed hours earlier. Beds were made. Linens changed the day before. Bathrooms were all clean. Windows all washed. She searched the cottage for the tiniest task to complete. When she realized that there was nothing left to do, she tried to occupy her mind with a book. She was reminded after reading the same sentence six times and not retaining any of the words, of the week she spent alone in Antonin's cottage after the battle at Azkaban. Disgusted with the fact that so much in her life had changed and yet nothing at all had changed, she slammed the book shut.

Ten minutes later she was standing at the back door of her parents' London home. Part of her knew that she shouldn't have left the cottage on her own without anyone knowing where she was, but part of her didn't care a bit. She was exhausted of the treatment she had been experiencing. She wasn't an invalid. She wasn't a child. She wasn't a prisoner. Did no one remember that she had already spent close to a year trapped inside one house after the other unable to leave when she wanted?

The back door was locked, but that was nothing that a quick _alohomora_ could not take care of. Once inside she struggled to breathe. She wasn't sure if it was because of the dull, stagnant air or the flood of so many emotions arriving back at her old home, but it did not matter. Hermione sat down in one of the familiar chairs at the kitchen table to catch her breath. She'd had thousands of meals at that simple oak table with her parents seated on either side of her. It was impossible to imagine the fact that she would never be able to share a meal with them again. They would never return home. Never meet their first grandchild. Or any other grandchildren after the first for that matter.

Immense guilt over what happened to her parents was a constant knot in her stomach. She was certain that she would never be able to forgive herself for being the reason why her parents were murdered in such a cruel way.

"You can fall apart for ten seconds, Hermione," she said aloud to herself. "And then you have to get on with it. You can't stay here long."

After a short cry session at the beloved table, she headed up the stairs. She was surprised by how undisturbed the house seemed. Antonin admitted to her that he had been inside the house at least twice searching for clues of her potential whereabouts. It was on one of his searches that he discovered the clue that led him to search in Australia. Her mother left behind a printed copy of their flight itinerary on the desk in their home office. He and his associates had obviously put everything they touched right back where it belonged because nothing seemed out of place.

Her old bedroom was located at the top of the stairs and then at the very end of the corridor. When she cast the memory spell that removed all traces of her from her parents' minds, she'd also placed a Muggle repellent spell on her bedroom door. Most of her belongings were still inside the bedroom in the exact place she'd left them a year and a half or so earlier. She sat down on her old bed for a moment to take the deep breaths she needed to keep herself from falling apart again.

She wanted to retrieve some of her personal items from the house before she made a promise to never return. It was too dangerous to return. Not only because the fear of Death Eaters or errant Muggles, but because it was too dangerous for her to continue to keep links forged with her past. She had to move forward with her life.

Hermione rose from her bed to cross the bedroom to her bookshelves. She ran her fingers over the familiar titles. None of them were irreplaceable. If she wanted in the future, she could get them again. She moved over to the walk in closet where all of her old clothes were still hanging. From the top of the closet she took down a box that she knew was full of her old baby things including her baby scrapbook and her christening gown. With a tap on the top with her wand, the box shrunk to a size she could slip into her beaded bag. There was nothing else in the closet that she could not live without.

The small desk in her bedroom was the only area of the house that there seemed to be evidence of other people having been in the room since she last left. Photographs, Muggle and magical, were strewn all over the top of the desk. She noticed several of the frames that had held some of her pictures were empty. Other photographs had been cut in half with smiling, waving Harry or Ron alone where she had once been with them. She assumed that the Ministry had come in to search for photographs they could use in the Daily Prophet or on the other broadsheets they'd circulated warning the world of what a dangerous criminal she was. She tucked some of the pictures with Harry and Ron inside her bag. There would never be another opportunity for her to take more pictures of them.

It only took another quarter of an hour before Hermione filled her beaded bag with everything else she wanted from the old house. She'd already lingered too long. If Lucius already returned to the cottage, he would be very angry to find out that she was no longer there. He would probably start searching for her and put himself in greater danger than he was usually in. As she stood at the back door, she took one last look at the familiar kitchen. It was just a room in a house that no longer held any meaning. Her parents would never grace the house with their presence again. Eventually the house would be auctioned off for back taxes and another family would live and grow and die within its walls. It no longer belonged to her.

Hermione did not want to Apparate back to the cottage immediately. She wanted the opportunity to walk through her neighborhood one last time. The mid November weather was already quite chilly, but she made sure she was dressed properly for the weather. Living most of the winter months within a thin tent hardened her to the elements. She was thankful that she would not be spending another winter huddled under that piece of canvas. Snuggled up with Lucius in their tiny room during the harshest winter months sounded heavenly.

She was at the end of her old block when she felt that she wasn't alone. It wasn't anything overt, but the tiniest instinct within her gut told her that she was being followed. Hermione tried to look behind her without making it obvious that that was what she was doing, but she couldn't see anything. Her only option was to speed up her strides. She would be in a much more public area if she could just make it a few blocks up.

She could hear loud footsteps behind her getting closer and closer. Hermione was terrified to turn around. It could be anyone, but she had a very good idea who was behind her. A cacophony of loud voices sounded up ahead. The footsteps were nearer. She started to jog towards the safety of the numbers. The figure behind her sped up as well. She felt a tugging on her shirt. Hermione ripped her sleeve out of their grasp. Not caring that she was in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood in the middle of the day, Hermione turned on the spot to Disapparate immediately. She heard her voice called out by a very familiar voice and before she disappeared in thin air, she was certain that it was Antonin who had only been itches away.

When her feet touched the ground outside of Shell Cottage, she collapsed in a heap. She waited to make sure that she didn't accidentally Side-Apparate Antonin along with her before she allowed herself to cry. It had been too close. He almost had her again. _How could you be so reckless, Hermione?_ she demanded internally. Maybe there was something to everyone else always keeping her stuck safely at home. Whenever she tried to do anything on her own, she tended to get in trouble.

How did he know where she was? She laid on the ground for several minutes after the tears dried up trying to figure out how Antonin knew where to find her. _There must have been some kind of alarm on the house alerting him when someone entered._ It was the only theory that made any sense. She must have tripped some sort of silent alarm. Antonin knew she would return eventually and he was ready for her when she did. What would have happened if she hadn't been as quick to Disapparate as she was? Hermione didn't want to imagine the consequences of being captured by Antonin Dolohov again. Not when she was so happy with Lucius. Not when she was safe with the Resistance. She had to stop making such rash decisions.

* * *

November passed with no incidents to both the relief and dismay of the Resistance. There were still plans that had to be placed into action to further their cause, but November had been unusually quiet. Attacks on potential blood traitors had been fewer and further between. Very few Death Eaters had been spotted moving around the country giving credence to the fear that they were gathering forces for a large offensive. Spies for the Resistance were struggling to find any information. All in all, the war was going badly for the Light.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" Lucius asked one night before they both fell asleep.

"I'm not sure," she replied, even though that was a lie.

"You must have a suspicion." He wrapped his arms around her slowly thickening body and pulled her close to his chest. She was thankful for the extra warmth. Their bedroom was chilly in the winter.

"I think it's a boy. I wish I could have a sonogram to know for certain."

"What is that? Something Muggle?" His tone was inquisitive, not derisive which surprised Hermione. He usually had nothing positive to say about Muggle innovations.

"Muggle healers can take pictures of the baby while it is still within the womb," she explained. "If the baby cooperates by turning the right way, you can tell if it is a boy or a girl before it's even born."

"Fascinating. A picture of the child before it is born? Absolutely fascinating."

"Are there ways to tell if it is a boy or girl with magic?" As a fugitive from the Ministry, Hermione had only been able to see a healer working for the Resistance for her prenatal care. The healer was competent, but obstetrics were not his specialty.

"Yes," he answered. "There are potions, but we cannot gain access to them. They are too costly."

She was disappointed at the news, but not surprised. It was strange how she couldn't be certain she was having a boy, but somehow she sensed it. Luna had experienced the same when she was pregnant with Xeno. Maybe it was simply a female intuition that she acquired the moment she started expecting.

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Lucius asked.

"A little, I guess."

"What have you thought of?"

"I was thinking about naming him after my father and then I also thought about naming him after the man who helped keep me safe all of those months ago in Scotland."

Lucius kissed the top of her head and snuggled closer to her body.

"Ryan William Granger," she said.

"Ryan? Hmm, it is certainly an unusual name for a Malfoy, but we do owe Mr. Sloane a great deal. Do you not think the name too long?"

"Too long?"

"Ryan William Granger Malfoy. It is a mouthful."

She felt uncomfortable having the conversation she was having with Lucius.

"I had not considered him having the Malfoy name," she replied.

"Why not? He will be my son." Lucius said it so matter-of-factly that there really was no room for argument.

"You want to give him your name." It wasn't a question.

"Of course I do. Just as I want to give _you_ my name as well."

Hermione sat up in the bed at his admission. He looked into her eyes with all of the confidence he normally possessed.

"I know we have not really been together that long," he admitted. "But I _do_ want to marry you, Hermione."

She didn't know what to say. Her hesitation only made him uncomfortable.

"I am sorry. I should not have said that," he said, dropping his gaze to the patchwork quilt on the bed. "We really have not been together _that_ long. It was too forward of me to suggest."

"No!" she countered. "I was just surprised. Are you proposing to me?"

"If I were, what would you say?"

Hermione kissed him deeply. He responded back in kind. Several minutes later they broke off the embrace to come up for air.

"I would definitely say 'yes'," Hermione answered.

"I will keep that in mind."

Lucius kissed Hermione again before snuggling under the covers. She was torn between being offended and amused by his response.

"Trust me, my darling, when I am ready to propose to you, you will _know_ you are being proposed to without asking."

* * *

In mid-December, two weeks before Christmas, Hermione woke up late. The early stages of pregnancy kept her tired at all times, it seemed. Lucius was always kind enough to keep his noise to a minimum when he woke up each morning to allow her to sleep in. She had not been interested in exiting the cottage since the day she was almost caught by Antonin again (an event she told absolutely no one else about). Some days there was nothing left for her to do each day then take a series of cat naps.

Kingsley was seated at the kitchen table when she finally made her way downstairs. They embraced like old friends. She was pleased to see that he was slowly putting a little bit more weight on, but he still had the haunted look of grief etched over every inch of his face. They sat at the table with Arthur and Lucius in almost complete silence for a little while as everyone sipped their tea and tried to finish the process of waking up.

"Kingsley," Hermione said, turning towards the former auror. "I wanted to ask you something important."

"Of course, my girl. What is it?" He smiled at her and she noticed that once again his smile did not meet his eyes.

"I wanted to ask your permission to name my son…"

" _Our_ son," Lucius corrected.

"All right, I wanted to ask your permission to name our son Ryan."

Fat tears filled up in Kingsley's eyes at the mention of Ryan's name. He reached across the table to take her hand in his. While squeezing her hand, Kingsley smiled all the way up to his eyes.

"That would be lovely, Hermione, Lucius. Thank you."

Lucius shook Kingsley's hand and then changed the conversation to allow the man some time to regain his composure.

"Tildie informed me yesterday that she learned that the Dark Lord has become dependent on a certain potion that he forces Horace to make for him daily," Lucius announced.

"What kind of potion?" Kingsley asked, his tears wiped from his cheeks.

"She was not sure of the name, but because all of his horcruxes were destroyed, he has become unstable."

"Unstable?" Arthur seemed uneasy at the thought.

"Yes, all she could tell me for certain was that the Dark Lord has been consuming mass amounts of unicorn blood."

"Like he did during my first year?" Hermione remembered the terrifying night in the Forbidden Forest when Harry came face to face with Voldemort for the first time since he tried to kill him as a baby.

"I assume so," Lucius answered. "He requires a potion daily made with the unicorn blood. Macnair has been combing the Forbidden Forest for unicorns to slaughter for this purpose. It is making the creatures of the forest uneasy."

"Your son is Horace's apprentice," Kingsley said. "Is there some way that he can taint the potion or lower its effectiveness?"

Lucius shook his head.

"The Dark Lord will only allow Horace to brew the potion. He does not even allow Draco near the room when it is being prepared."

"There must be some way to get to the potion," Hermione said, the gears in her head turning.

"There is a window of time from when the unicorn blood is harvested to when Horace brews the potion. Tildie assures me that she can get to the blood before it is added to the potion. She will start spiking the blood with a weakening potion tomorrow."

The smiles around the table were contagious. It was a long shot, but it was the only option they had at the moment. Hermione hoped that for the sake of the child she was now carrying they might be able to weaken Lord Voldemort to the point where his mortality would be certain.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

Hermione Granger woke up the morning of New Year's Eve needing to immediately empty the contents of her stomach out in the nearest toilet. The moment her eyes opened she leapt from the bed and ran out of the room to Lucius' consternation. She almost did not make it to the bathroom just down the corridor in time. Later, with her knees on the soft bathmat and her head cradled in her arms draped over the seat that she made certain was cleaned every single day for this very reason, she tried to calculate the number of times she had thrown up in the past year. She had never been one to have a weak stomach, but between the captures by Lucius and then Antonin, coupled with the myriad of other times that stress and anxiety caused her stomach to churn, she was certain that she had thrown up more in the past year than she had in the previous eighteen years of her life combined.

Morning sickness was only supposed to last the first three months; she'd been assured by the still in-training Healer. Somehow she could not find it in herself to believe he knew what he was talking about. He might have been competent to repair a sprain or relieve the after effects of some of the more common curses that Death Eaters were frequently sending in the direction of hapless Resistance members, but she sincerely hoped that when the time came for her baby to be born the war was over or she could be smuggled in to a Muggle hospital. Allowing that man to deliver her baby terrified her more than Lord Voldemort ever could. She clung to the knowledge that most women suffering from morning sickness were usually better by the end of their first trimester. According to the diagnostics that the Healer was able to provide when she was first examined, she would be hitting the three month mark any day.

"Try this," Lucius said, handing her a steaming cup of tea.

She took the cup greedily. Arthur had been experimenting with all of the different natural remedies that Molly used to employ when she was pregnant. So far none of them had helped in the slightest. Hermione was afraid that she was destined to have one of those pregnancies plagued for nine entire months of almost constant nausea. She wished she had had the presence of mind to ask her mother what her pregnancy had been like. All she knew was that Hermione was the first and last baby to survive past the three month mark. She wasn't sure how many heartbreaking miscarriages her mother had to suffer before she was finally born. The threat of losing her baby like her mother was another constant worry that she tried unsuccessfully to ignore.

" _Blech_! What the bloody hell is that, Lucius?" She demanded. "I was expecting tea, not my own vomit!"

Lucius never took her outbursts to heart. He was either a fool or a saint. Some days Hermione could not decide which.

"It is brewer's yeast and tomato juice with lemon," he described.

"And that was supposed to make me _not_ want to vomit? That's worse than Xenophilius Lovegood's Gurdyroot Infusion."

"Arthur spoke with a Muggle in the village," Lucius explained. "Said that his daughter in law was suffering from severe morning sickness but did not like to go to, uhh, what do they call Muggle healers?"

"Doctors."

"Yes, said that she did not want to go to a doctor. She suggested her grandmother's morning sickness potion once he explained that ginger only gave you heartburn and no relief."

Hermione turned her head in Lucius' direction. As he always did every single morning she spent huddled over the toilet, he seemed very concerned and unsure how to help. She knew that he was only trying to find a way to make her feel better if it was possible. Determined to make at least a solid effort at emptying the mug of the worst concoction she could possibly imagine, Hermione held her breath and swallowed the warm beverage in one go.

"Thank you, Lucius. We will see if this helps."

Lucius leaned down to kiss her on her forehead before taking the empty mug out of her hand.

"Hopefully, once you are further along this will not be necessary. I remember when Narcissa…"

The moment his late wife's name came out of his mouth, Lucius's cheeks flushed pink and he stopped speaking. He reacted the same way every time she was mentioned. Almost two years later and he was still affected by that horrible day in May just as badly as Hermione was. She gave him a tentative half-smile, encouraging him to continue with his thought, but the moment passed. Hermione learned early on in their relationship that she was not threatened by his mention of his late wife. In fact, she couldn't help but think that he would feel much better if he talked about her more. She'd tried to make that very suggestion once until her own conscience betrayed her. She never spoke about Harry or Ron because she found their deaths still to be too fresh and raw to discuss. She never mentioned her parents even when Lucius asked her questions about them. Hermione was the last person in the world who could give that advice.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked.

Lucius smiled down at her still seated on the bathroom floor.

"Because I love you, Hermione," he answered. "It pains me to see you go through pain."

She should have simply accepted his words at their face value, but something inside of Hermione compelled her to keep speaking. Almost two months had passed since she first suspected that she was going to have a baby. Almost two months since she had to admit to Lucius that at some point in her captivity with Antonin she'd allowed herself to be seduced by the man for no other reason than the fact that she was sad and lonely. It bothered her immensely that his reaction was not what she anticipated. She was certain that if the tables were turned and she found out that he had been intimate with another woman, she would go ballistic at the knowledge. Lucius scared her because of his reluctance to show any sort of strong emotion in her presence related to her fears that the child she was carrying didn't actually biologically belong to him. Over and over again he made certain that she was aware that he had every intention of claiming the child as his. Planned on providing for it and even giving it the "sacred" Malfoy name. A niggling feeling in the back of her mind would not allow her to drop the discussion completely.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" she asked, surprising her lover with her candor.

"Mad at you? Why should I be mad at you?"

"Because I may be giving birth to Dolohov's bastard."

He flinched at her coarse choice of words.

"Aren't you angry?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed and his tone grew deeper. His perfectly straight teeth clenched together.

"I am _very_ angry," he said, his voice hardly escalating above a chilling whisper. "I am so angry that at times I can hardly breathe and I fear I will choke on the rising bile of bitterness that pools in the pit of my stomach."

"Then why are you so eager to help me? So content to rub my back and brush the hair off of my neck? So willing to listen to any asinine herbal remedy that Arthur picked up from some old wife? Why are you not showing me how angry you are?"

"Do you want to know why I have not exploded and gone after the person responsible for this in a fit of anger?" The steel in his voice unnerved Hermione.

"Yes. Why haven't you? Why haven't you exploded and attacked the person responsible for this?" She gestured to the tiniest bump on her flat stomach that had only begun to show itself in the past couple of days.

"Because, my dear, if I went after the person responsible for that…" He motioned towards her belly. "If I sought out the person that put you in that position and used all of my anger to kill them, it would be counterproductive in my plan to make certain that you and your child are protected. I could not very well protect you both if I killed myself, could I?"

The significance of his words was momentarily lost on Hermione. They hung in the air between them for several moments as she slowly began to unravel their true meaning.

"You believe you are responsible for me being in this position?" she asked, trying her hardest to keep her tone and emotions under control.

"I do not _believe_ it, Hermione. I know I am," he answered. "If I had been able to protect you like I promised you and Kingsley and George Weasley and Neville Longbottom, then you would not have been in the position you were in where this was even a possibility. Do you remember the first night Antonin and Rabastan came to visit us in the manor?"

"How could I forget?"

"What did I say to you when I met you back upstairs in your room when they left?"

She tried to remember the exact words, but was unable to. That evening had been one full of stress and fear. It was virtually impossible to recall the exact words that Lucius said to her as he tried to comfort her and calm her. They had just learned that Hermione was Antonin Dolohov's war prize for being an exceptional Death Eater. Neither of them could understand the implications of what that meant.

"I said to you that it did not matter what Antonin wanted with you because I would never allow him to touch you again."

"Lucius…"

"I _promised_ you that he would never touch you again!"

Hermione rose from her kneeling position on the floor, her nausea gone and forgotten. She attempted to place a reassuring hand on Lucius' arm but he shrugged it away.

"I promised you that evening that I would keep you protected, and I failed. I failed spectacularly. You were injured and kidnapped. You spent months living alone with a madman unable to escape. Then when I finally was able to rescue you, it was too late. The damage had been done. Now it is very possible that you are going to have his bastard, as you put it so succinctly earlier, and I was powerless to stop it from happening!"

Lucius stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut as he went. Hermione knew better than to follow. He needed his space to calm down. She was a bit angry with herself for pushing him so far, but she was going crazy not knowing how he was really feeling. For weeks she had tiptoed around him, worried about saying or doing the wrong thing to upset him enough to set him off. It was only a matter of time before he exploded or did something to hurt himself. She remembered how dangerous he had been the night of Rabastan's party with the raw magic coursing through him and threatening to burst out. He was a dangerous man when he was angry.

Hermione waited a full sixty seconds before splashing some water on her face, attempting to rinse the nasty taste out of her mouth from the morning sickness remedy and then exiting the bathroom. She walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Arthur sat in his usual spot at the kitchen table drinking a hot cup of tea and reading the early morning edition of the newspaper. He looked up briefly from the paper to grant her a warm smile before lowering his gaze back to the article he was reading.

"Where was Lucius headed off to in such a rush?" Arthur asked the moment Hermione sat down at the table with her own cup of tea and a couple of pieces of plain, dry toast.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, that's all right then. I'm sure he will be fine," he replied, squeezing her hand in a gesture of comfort. "Best to give him a bit of space to cool down. Nothing a good, long walk on the beach won't cure."

His words were almost cut off by the sound of Apparition just outside the front door. As no one immediately entered the cottage after the sound, Hermione knew that it was Lucius leaving to go Merlin knew where. She hoped that Arthur was right, that all he needed was time to cool down. She tried unsuccessfully not to worry about him. After all, doing something dangerous and getting yourself killed wasn't exactly the best way to end the year.

Lucius still had not returned to Shell Cottage by ten o'clock that evening when an impromptu New Year's Eve party was in full swing. Several of the Resistance members decided to crash the silence of the cottage. Hermione was grateful for the distraction. She'd already spent much of the day following Lucius' abrupt exit wandering around the empty-except-for-Arthur cottage worrying about where her wizard was and what he was doing. She was excited to see George, Angelina, Neville and Hannah show up on the doorstep with little Frank around seven. A few hours later there were over twenty people in the cottage.

Arthur was in his element as host of the large gathering. It was obvious that he had missed having so many people in his own home for events since the war ended. The last large party they had was Bill and Fleur's wedding the day the Ministry fell. A glimpse of the old Arthur began to shine through as more and more bottles of wine were opened and consumed. He took on Molly's old responsibilities of moving around the house making sure that everyone was eating enough and had a full glass. Hermione was pleased to see him act a little bit more like the man she first knew so many years ago.

Around ten-thirty Charlie Weasley arrived with Garrick Ollivander to everyone's surprise. Hermione rushed over to the front door to greet the new arrivals. Charlie pulled her into a giant bear hug and would've pulled her up off her feet if his father hadn't been there to prevent it from happening. He relinquished his hold on her with a wink. Mr. Ollivander politely shook her hand with a tight, weary smile.

"I was in London picking up a new shipment of untraceable wands from Garrick on Kingsley's orders when I got George's invitation," Charlie explained. "Garrick didn't have any other plans to celebrate the New Year so I brought him along."

"It's wonderful to see you again, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione answered. "It's been a very long time."

"Yes, it has, my dear." Garrick began looking around the cottage. "I must say that I didn't expect to be back here again."

Hermione smiled at him, but didn't know what to say. They were together the day that Dobby saved them from Malfoy Manor. There really wasn't anything she could say. She stood there with her hand in the pocket of her jeans feeling her new wand. A thought came to her and she pulled the elm wood wand out that she'd been using since her first day in the cottage.

"Mr. Ollivander, I wonder if I might ask you a question."

"Of course, Miss Granger."

She handed him the elm wand. He took it from her with the same tenderness and respect he showed for every wand he held.

"I'm not sure if you were even the wandmaker, but I wondered if you know who this wand belonged to."

Mr. Ollivander began to examine the wand. He eyed it carefully and swished it to make green sparks fly out of the end.

"Yes, very nice. Elm. 12 5/8 inches. Dragon heartstring. Excellent for Transfiguration and assistance with Potions. This wand selected Ryan Sloane when he turned eleven."

"Thank you," she said, taking the wand back from Mr. Ollivander with a bit more grace than she thrust it in his hands to begin with.

She was surprised to hear that the wand had been Ryan's. It made her a bit sad knowing that this was the wand that had been unable to save him at the Battle of Azkaban. She wondered if Kingsley knew that the Resistance had recovered his wand. It was such a personal item that she wanted to make sure that he didn't want to keep it. Losing the wand would be disappointing, but she would rather Kingsley keep it if it made him happy.

"Charlie, where's Ginny?" Hermione asked in an effort to change the subject of the conversation. The second eldest Weasley son had not yet walked away from the front entrance to the cottage and had politely stood by while she and Mr. Ollivander completed their discussion.

Charlie rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically at the question about his sister's whereabouts. He had been the one to smuggle her out of the country following the massive defeat at the Battle for Hogwarts. She was surprised to learn that Charlie was back in the country from Lucius.

"Well, she is certainly _not_ in Australia or in the US like I wanted her to be," he answered. "I tried to get her to join Lee in Arizona or Justin and Dennis in Brisbane. She refused. Said that she was of legal age and could go anywhere she damn well pleased."

"That certainly sounds like her," Hermione laughed.

"She is in Ireland with Dean. Since Seamus was killed, he's been by himself running operations there. She volunteered to help him there. Personally, I think she was just looking for an excuse to see him again, but that's none of my business." Charlie winked at Hermione.

"I wanted to thank you, Charlie."

"For what, 'Mione?"

"For saving Lucius."

Charlie's normally ruddy complexion flushed a little bit darker at her words. He shrugged his shoulders as if saving a former Death Eater rival of his father who once almost killed his sister with a cursed diary was the most natural occurrence in the world.

"Yes, well, I knew what he had done for you," he answered. "You are a part of the family, Hermione. I love you like you were my annoying, swotty, know-it-all, bossy little sister."

He winked his familiar Charlie-wink and she couldn't be upset with his words. She laughed before she felt her eyes fill up with tears.

"Our family owed Lucius. Owed him for keeping you safe. It was the least I could do."

Hermione threw her arms around Charlie's midsection and burst into loud sobs. He wrapped his arms around her back. A hush fell over the crowd in the lounge the moment Hermione started crying, but one of the women said the word 'hormones' and everyone resumed what they had been doing.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized as she ended the awkward embrace. "I didn't mean to cry all over you, Charlie."

She practically ran away from the dragon keeper at full speed. Her feet carried her into the kitchen before her mind was aware of where she was going. She just wanted to get away from the crush in the lounge. Hannah and Angelina were seated at the kitchen table struggling to open a bottle of wine without magic. Hermione crossed the room without a word to open the bottle with the Muggle corkscrew Arthur had been excited to find in the village.

"Thanks, 'Mione," Angelina said between sips of wine. "We would've been here all night without you."

Hermione started to leave the room, but Hannah placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Hey, 'Mione, sit down and let me ask you a question."

Hannah pushed a chair out for Hermione. She didn't really have a good excuse to ignore her friends.

"So Neville was telling me how he was here last week when he and Kingsley and Lucius returned from a mission," Hannah began.

"Yes. They went to Paris to visit the black market for some potion supplies."

"Yeah, I know. Neville told me. Terribly boring mission." Hannah said waving her hand in exasperation. "What I'm interested in is when Lucius returned he said something interesting to you."

Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn. She hated blushing and if there was one person who knew exactly what to say to her to make her blush, it was Hannah Abbott Longbottom. She'd been doing that since second year Herbology.

"What did he say?" Angelina asked with a curious smirk on her face.

"Neville said that Lucius leaned down to Hermione's ear and whispered, but not quietly enough." Hannah started to giggle. "He said, 'I want you in diamonds and nothing else'."

Angelina gasped and joined Hannah in her giggles. Hermione felt a small smile creep up on her lips, but she kept her eyes directed at the table.

"And _then_ Hermione whispered back, 'Cellar. Neville.'. Care to explain what that was all about?" Hannah laughed. "And why do you and Lucius want my husband in the cellar?"

"The night that he rescued me from Antonin I remembered what Mad Eye used to always say to us. 'Constant vigilance'. It reminded me that I didn't make certain that Lucius was actually him and not an imposter using polyjuice. I asked him a question that only he knew the answer to and then he asked me. That's all. We were just exchanging the answers the other night without asking the questions out loud."

"Please tell us the questions, 'Mione. They sound _very_ interesting," chuckled Angelina.

"Well, his question to me is 'Where were we when I first tried to kiss you and who interrupted us'? We were in the wine cellar and Neville's patronus interrupted."

"And the other?" Hannah raised one eyebrow.

"'What was the last thing you said to me before you took me to bed the first time'?"

Hannah and Angelina both erupted into a fit of giggles worthy of any school girl. Hermione wondered how much wine they'd already consumed before she had to open the next bottle for them.

"Please tell me why on earth he said that to you," begged Hannah.

Hermione spent the next few minutes describing everything that happened the night of Rabastan's party. She explained how Lucius came to her rescue in the gardens and how he finally kissed her in the corridor between their rooms. When she described how Lucius ripped the purple dress off of her body and refused to allow her remove the diamonds, both women were speechless. They sat there staring at her with their mouths open for several long beats after the story ended.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione. That's the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life," Angelina finally said as she used her hand to fan her face.

"Wow. Wow. Wow." Hannah couldn't say anything else.

"I wish I had some diamonds so I could hear George say that to me."

The three women all burst into loud laughter at that last remark. Hermione endured several minutes of good-natured teasing from her friends. Both of them were well on their way to being completely pissed and for the first time in her short pregnancy, Hermione found herself feeling jealous that she was unable to drink with them. The glasses of wine she shared with Lucius every night after dinner were some of the best hours of her life. She hoped that when everything was all over, they would be able to once again return to the routine they both loved so much.

"He is one gorgeous man," Hannah whistled. "I've always thought so, but wow, to know that he actually says things like that… wow."

"Yeah, that's unbelievably hot," agreed Angelina.

"I hope your baby has his daddy's hair," Hannah began before she received a sharp elbow to the ribs from Angelina. Immediately, Hannah's face dropped and she stared at Hermione with wide eyes. "Shit, Hermione. I'm…"

Hermione rose from her chair before Hannah could complete her sentence. She had suspected of course that the members of the Resistance who were aware she was pregnant had suspicions that maybe she returned from her captivity with Antonin already pregnant, but no one had yet said anything to her to confirm her suspicions. She hated being the subject of idle gossip even if it was from her loved ones. Not wishing to continue the discussion, Hermione pushed through the kitchen door to the lounge area. No one would blame her for going to bed before midnight.

She was only steps from the staircase when the front door of the cottage opened suddenly. A large figure covered in blood and bound with rope and blindfolded was pushed inside the house. Kingsley and Bill Weasley followed behind with an irate Lucius bringing up the rear being held back by a deceptively serene Aberforth Dumbledore. The sounds of the party immediately ceased as everyone turned to view the new arrivals. Hermione was so thankful to see that Lucius was all right that it took her a moment to even take stock of what was happening just feet from her.

"Antonin?"

His face turned in the direction of Hermione's voice. Despite his eyes being covered with a blindfold and likely also covered in blood, he began to move closer to her. His sleeve was almost touching her when Lucius broke free of Aberforth's grasp to pull Antonin backwards by his bound wrists. Antonin fell to the floor without any way to break his fall. Hermione gasped and instinctively rushed to his side to make certain he was all right.

She said his name again. When she reached a hand out to help him, Lucius grabbed her arm. He pulled her into his arms in a vicious defensive and possessive motion. Lucius didn't say a word to her, but the cold glint in his eyes said more than his mouth ever could. Hermione looked around to find that every other person in the house was staring at her in disbelief.

"Let's take him down into the cellar," suggested Bill. "He should be secure in there."

Kingsley and Charlie yanked Antonin off the floor roughly enough to make the injured wizard gasp. Hermione started to demand that they be more careful, but the pressure on her body from Lucius' arms prevented her. Bill led them through to the kitchen where the door to the cellar was located.

"What is going on, Lucius?" Hermione demanded without even bothering to lower her voice. Everyone still standing in the room hung on her every word.

"Draco got a message to me this morning," Lucius answered, also not caring if everyone else heard him speak or not. "That is why I left this morning when I did. He said that a Death Eater wished to meet with Kingsley on official business. Kingsley was going to meet with him alone, but Bill, Aberforth and I would not hear of that. Too dangerous. We waited nearby in case Kingsley needed some backup.

"When Antonin showed up, I attacked him. You can imagine why. Kingsley and Aberforth were able to disarm us of our wands very early on, but as you can see, we did not stop there. It has been years since I had to resort to a proper Muggle street brawl, but I believe I was successful."

Hermione did not notice any marks on Lucius and told him so. He laughed a booming, mirthless laugh.

"Easy enough to heal myself when Aberforth finally gave me back my wand."

"And you just left him in that condition?"

She stormed out of the lounge towards the kitchen, ignoring the stares, whispers and shouts from Lucius behind her. Kingsley and the other men were just coming back up the stairs when she entered the kitchen. She pushed past the men to the cellar door. Charlie pulled her away with an arm around her waist.

"Let me go, Charlie Weasley," she demanded, trying her hardest to kick him in the shins. "We are not animals even if we are fighting against them. If he is our prisoner, he needs medical attention."

"Charlie, let her go," Kingsley said softly.

"No!" Lucius yelled. "Absolutely not, Hermione. You will _not_ go down there!"

Hermione turned on her heel and stalked towards Lucius. She met his furious gaze with one equally frightening of her own.

"Let's get something straight right now," she said, her tone calm and low despite the rise in her blood pressure. "I was not asking permission, Lucius Malfoy! You do _not_ get to tell me what I can and cannot do."

Kingsley placed his hand on Lucius' shoulder to head off any potential explosion following her words.

"Lucius, let her go. It was one of his conditions," Kingsley said. "We promised him that he would be able to speak alone with Hermione."

"I never promised him any such thing!" Lucius protested.

"He will not hurt me, Lucius," Hermione assured him.

"We will be waiting here for you if you need anything," assured Kingsley.

Hermione pushed the door to the cellar open with all eyes in the kitchen fixed on her back. She heard George whisper to Angie that he thought regular Hermione was scary, but pregnant 'Mione was the stuff of nightmares. His girlfriend shushed him and Hermione had to wipe a smirk off her face before she descended the staircase. Lucius tried to follow until Kingsley physically stopped him again with a reminder that she was supposed to go alone.

The door to the cellar slammed behind Hermione. It was a little unnerving, but she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. She made it to the bottom of the short staircase in only a few seconds that felt much longer. Antonin was seated on a low stool. His long legs were stretched in front of him and his bound wrists were still behind him. Hermione stepped cautiously towards him careful not to make any noise. He was aware that he was not alone. His covered face turned to her direction.

Hermione didn't say a word to him. She didn't know what to say or why he was even there. It was hard to believe that fifteen minutes earlier she was giggling with two of her school friends upstairs in the kitchen and now she was looking at her kidnapper, beaten and bound in the cellar. Antonin was composed. She wondered how many times in his lifetime that he had been in a similar situation. Hermione reached behind Antonin's head to remove the blindfold. Antonin tensed at the contact until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. A wide smile crossed his bruised features.

"Good evening, _lyubimaya_. Are you having a good New Year's?" His laugh turned into a rasping cough.

Hermione feared that he might have broken ribs.

"I'm going to untie you," she said when he stopped coughing. "Will you promise me that you won't move from this stool when I do so?"

"If you will feel safer with me seated here, I will not move. I promise."

She moved behind him to untie his wrists. When his hands were free he stretched them out in front and moved them in circles to restore the circulation. His left eye was swollen shut. Hermione was also fairly certain that his nose was broken. She had her hand in her pocket clutching her wand, but she was hesitant to use it.

"I won't try to disarm you if you want to try to clear some of this up for me," he said, gesturing towards his face. He always had an eerie way of knowing just what she was thinking.

She knew she could trust his word even if no one else upstairs felt the same. It only took a few quick healing spells to fix his nose and remove the swelling from his eye. She'd never learned how to remove bruises completely without a healing salve, but those weren't critical to his health. His skin would simply be tender in a few places for a week or so.

"How did all of this happen?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him while she healed a cut on the top of his head. He chuckled for a moment before remembering his ribs.

"I'm afraid that Lucius and I will never be best mates."

"Did he start this? Or did you?"

"He did. I didn't even know he was there. I just wanted to speak to the auror alone."

Hermione conjured up a soft rag and hit it with an aguamenti spell. She used the wet rag to wipe the dried blood from his face. Memories of the night she shaved his face were present in both of their minds. Antonin kept his hands placed on his thighs in an attempt to still his urge to touch the young woman in front of him.

"I'm sorry I scared you that day in London," he said after a couple of minutes of silence while she attended to his bloody face. Hermione stopped her ministrations to stare at him. "I just wanted to talk to you. I've been worried about you."

Hermione snorted. Like Hell he just wanted to talk to her. She might be less than half his age, but she wasn't _that_ naïve.

"What happened after I left the manor?" she asked. "I wondered how you were going to explain what happened to the Lestranges."

Antonin shrugged.

"It was easy. I just made it look like she attacked Rabastan and he killed her in anger. No one questioned it. Neither of them was exactly known for being mentally stable. It was assumed that they would eventually kill each other anyway."

"That's horrifying," she replied. "But I won't lie that I'm glad nothing happened to you because of it. I don't believe I had the opportunity that night to thank you for what you did for me."

Antonin placed a hand on her waist. The impact of the touch surprised Hermione. Her body tensed, but he did not remove his hand.

"I would do it a hundred times over to protect you."

Hermione continued wiping the dried blood off of the top of his head to give herself something other than speaking to do. The darkness of the cellar made examining his head difficult. She reached up to move the light hanging above them to a better angle. When she raised her arms above her head, her jumper rode up a few inches exposing her stomach. Antonin inhaled a sharp intake of air. Hermione immediately dropped her arms, but the damage was done. Antonin lifted her jumper and placed both of his large, warm hands on her slightly bulging stomach.

" _Daragaya_ , what is this?" His voice was an awed whisper.

"Nothing, Antonin," she replied. "I've been eating a lot lately. I've put on some weight."

He snorted at her response, obviously not buying her fib.

"I don't think so. You eat like the tiny bird that you are."

He dropped his left hand to his side, but his right hand remained on her exposed stomach. Even though his single hand covered the entire expanse, it was obvious that there was a change in her body since the last time he had been able to take such liberties.

"I can feel new life inside of you, Hermione."

"Antonin, please stop."

He removed his hand from her belly. His eyes did not move even after Hermione pulled her jumper back down over the tiny bump. She removed the last bit of blood off of his head a couple of minutes later. Antonin was still transfixed by her stomach.

"Why did you want to meet with Kingsley?" she asked in an attempt to direct Antonin's attention elsewhere.

He looked up at her anxious, tired eyes.

"I wished to meet with Mr. Shacklebolt as an official envoy."

"An envoy? An envoy for whom?"

"'Disillusioned Death Eaters'," he answered. "We're still working on a more impressive title."

She appreciated his attempt to make her laugh. It lessened the tension in the room. She granted him a small smile.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course, I am. You rebels are not the only ones who are unhappy with the way the world is going these days."

"And you want to do what? Team up with the Resistance to overthrow You-Know-Who?"

"Something like that."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. If it were true, they would have a greater chance to finally win this war. If Antonin were lying, well, they were most likely no worse off than they already were.

"I volunteered to meet with the rebels so I could get a chance to see you," he continued. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine, Antonin. I'm safe and protected."

"You should go back upstairs. It's late and you need your rest… both of you."

He brushed his hand against her stomach once more for a moment. She turned to head back upstairs. Loud explosions went off outside. Antonin jumped up from the stool and pulled her body close to his in a protective movement. When the sounds of the explosions mingled with the repeated shouts of 'Happy New Year' upstairs, they both realized they were in no danger. George was simply setting off some of his new fireworks to commemorate the changing of the year.

"Happy New Year, _daragaya_ ," Antonin said before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss.

Hermione removed herself from Antonin's embrace and rushed up the stairs as quickly as she could. That was certainly not how she anticipated the new century beginning.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty Seven

Sleep was hard to come by in Shell Cottage after all of the partygoers returned to their own homes. Arthur moved around the house cleaning up the small messes always left behind by any large gathering desperately missing his wife as he did so. Bill sat up all night at the kitchen table drinking cup after cup of hot coffee to prevent Lucius from going downstairs to finish the job he started on Antonin earlier in the evening at Kingsley's request. The leader of the Resistance would be returning in the morning to interrogate the Death Eater and he needed to be alive to complete his purpose. Lucius lay awake next to Hermione with his eye on her to prevent any late night visits down to the cellar. Antonin paced the cellar with his thoughts consumed with Hermione and the child she was carrying. Hermione couldn't sleep because of the palpable tension permeating the entire house.

By six am the all-too-familiar queasiness returned to Hermione's stomach. She didn't see the sense in continuing to lie in bed next to a visibly irritated Lucius when she knew she would be unable to go back to sleep. Lucius watched her dress for the day, but never said a word. He was still angry with her for defying his wishes against visiting with Antonin the night before. Hermione wasn't bothered. She was still angry with him for trying to control her actions.

Bill was asleep on the kitchen table when Hermione entered the room. The sound of her footsteps jarred him awake. Hermione gave him a small smile before making some tea. She could hear noises downstairs indicating that Antonin was already awake. A few short minutes later she had enough eggs and sausage cooked for all four men in the house.

"Thank you, Hermione," Bill said as he began to tuck in. "This smells wonderful. I'm starving."

Hermione prepared another plate and headed for the cellar. Bill started to put out a hand to stop her, but one look from Hermione and his hand dropped to his side.

"Just please don't be down there long," he pleaded.

She promised she wouldn't linger downstairs for very long. Antonin was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Immediately he removed the plate of food from her hands. He sat down on the edge of the rickety camp bed Bill provided the night before for his use.

"Thank you, Hermione," Antonin finally spoke after a few awkward moments.

"I'm sorry I cooked your eggs a little longer than you care for. I was a bit distracted."

His bruised face split into a wide grin before he assured her everything was just fine. He was simply surprised that she remembered how he preferred his eggs runny. If they weren't down in a dank, smelly cellar, Antonin could've almost imagined no time had passed and they were back in another much smaller cottage by the sea.

"Are you not eating?" he asked.

She bit down the angry retort that was threatening to bubble up off her tongue. Too many people in the world were already concerned with her eating habits. She didn't need another man in her life watching how much she ate.

"I don't feel up to eating right now," she admitted. "I'll try to eat some toast or crackers later."

Antonin set his plate of food down on the bed. He stood up, gently took Hermione by her hand and brought her back to sit on the spot of the bed he just vacated. As he knelt down on the floor in front of her, he took her left wrist on his hand. He placed three fingers on the outside of her wrist and used his thumb to exert pressure on the inside. He moved his thumb around her wrist softly pushing to find the right spot. Hermione gasped when he hit just the right spot and she felt her nausea slowly start to lessen. Antonin looked up at her with a warm smile.

"My mum had terrible morning sickness when she was pregnant with my little brother," he explained as he began to firmly, but still rather gently rub his thumb across her pressure point in a circular motion. "Nothing helped her except this. I was six and when she got tired I would rub her wrists for her."

"Thank you. I already feel a bit better," she replied surprised by a simple pressure on her wrist being the temporary answer to her nausea problems. "I'm sorry, but I didn't know you have a younger brother."

Antonin dropped his eyes from hers to focus his attention on her wrist. Hermione noticed the sudden tension in his shoulders.

" _Had_ , I'm afraid. He was very young when he got sick."

"Oh, Antonin, I'm so sorry."

Her pregnancy hormones meant that she was always about half a second from bursting into tears at any moment. Antonin smiled at her before brushing her stray tears away with his free hand. They sat there in the comfortable silence they'd grown used to after living together for three months for several minutes. Antonin switched his motions over to Hermione's right wrist.

"I never imagined I would ever be a father," Antonin broke the silence with a wistful tone. "A life sentence in Azkaban pretty much precludes any hope for a family."

"Antonin…" She wanted to end this discussion but didn't know the words to use.

"You may try to deny the truth, Hermione, but I know this child is mine. I felt it last night when I touched your belly."

"Antonin, please."

"And you know it's mine too, don't you?"

Hermione closed her eyes, but the tears still tumbled out. Antonin placed his free hand back on her stomach, his other hand still doing what it could to ease her morning sickness.

"We made life together, _daragaya_. You cannot deny the truth."

She didn't know what to say. She'd never met anyone who could leave her as utterly speechless as the man kneeling in front of her. He was unnerving and she wished for nothing more than the ability to run away from him.

"Lucius knows the truth as well," Antonin continued.

Hermione's eyes snapped open at his last remark.

"Don't tell me. He's already made you promises that he will do everything in his power to keep you and _your_ child protected? That he will give our child his name and love him like he was his own flesh and blood?"

Hermione's silence was all Antonin needed to confirm his suspicions. He laughed a mirthless chuckle and placed both of his hands on her slim frame, one still on her belly and the other on her back in an effort to fully envelope her.

"Such pretty words from such a pretty man." His tone was bitter, angry and Hermione felt frightened for the first time. "I wonder how long he will be able to keep up the charade of loving our child, Hermione? A day? A year? Until you bless him with another blonde brat just as worthless as his first son?"

"Antonin, please stop," she sobbed.

"He will never love our child. Not truly. Certainly not unconditionally. He will see my face every single time he sees our child and he will grow to loathe it out of his own bitterness. Likely he will start to resent you as well."

"Antonin…"

He ran both of his hands through her unruly hair. His lips brushed against her forehead and when Hermione opened her eyes to look into his, she found his brown eyes were as full of desperate tears as hers. She'd never seen Antonin look so vulnerable, not even the night she told him she didn't really care for him in Rabastan's hedge maze. To see such a strong, formidable Death Eater threaten to dissolve into tears at her feet was humbling and quite extraordinary. For the first time, Hermione really began to understand the lengths that parents could go to for their children.

"What would you have me do, Antonin?" she asked. "I love him."

"Yes, believe me, I know you love him," he spat, the words foul and disgusting on his tongue.

Antonin removed his hands from her hair. With one last touch of her belly, he rose up off the floor to his feet. He helped Hermione up from the bed and sat back down to finish his now-cold breakfast.

"You should go back upstairs. I'm sure Lucius is waiting for you."

Her feet were up the cellar stairs long before her brain was. When she pushed the door to the kitchen open, she was surprised to find only Bill and Arthur waiting. Lucius was nowhere in sight. The two Weasley men flashed warm, almost identical smiles at her that she barely registered as she left the room. Once up the stairs she was again surprised to find Lucius was not in their bedroom or in the bathroom down the hall. Her body was exhausted and despite her relief from nausea, she wished for nothing more than to lie down for a few hours.

Her peripheral vision registered movement when she passed by the window. She peered out towards the beach where the threat of another winter storm was already churning the waves. A solitary figure stalked up and down the beach, his long blonde locks whipping around his face in the wind. She considered going to him, but reconsidered before she'd even moved a step from the window. She was tired. Too bloody tired to deal her life. Too tired to deal with two very different wizards who had very different ideas about loving her.

She climbed under the patchwork quilt and slept until her body could sleep no more.

The cramped bedroom was bright with afternoon sun when Hermione finally opened her eyes up again. Her nap had been just what she needed. She stretched every muscle she could before she reluctantly removed herself from the bed that had become her sanctuary after a rather trying morning.

She was unnerved by how quiet the house was. Afternoons were usually the busiest time of day for the safe house. People were always coming in and out. She splashed some water on her face and attempted to smooth down her hair before heading down the stairs to see where everyone else was.

Voices drifted out from behind the closed door to the kitchen. They were muffled as if someone placed a sound dampening charm around the room. They must have because the moment she pushed open the door, her ears were assaulted with the shouts of several different angry men.

Lucius was standing in front of the stove being held back by an annoyed Bill. He was shouting in the direction of the kitchen table where an equally irate Antonin was yelling back at him from his chair in a colorful mixture of English and Russian that Hermione was thankful she didn't understand. Kingsley's booming baritone added to the cacophony with his repeated requests for the men to stop shouting. Arthur sat next to Antonin at the table with an expression that made clear his desire to be anywhere else in the world. Neville and Aberforth were muttering to each other by the back door. No one was listening to each other and the sounds were deafening.

Hermione briefly wondered if she was destined to spend the rest of her life playing referee between all of the men in her life. She lazily flicked her wand first in Lucius' direction and then in Antonin's direction silencing them both with a charm that had come in handy many times during arguments with Harry and Ron. Both men turned in her direction and flashed murderous glares at her form. Kingsley continued to shout for quiet for an awkward extra few seconds after the culprits of the shouting match were rendered mute. The surprise of Hermione's sudden appearance and quick spell work impressed Aberforth and Neville into silence.

With Lucius' focus turned on Hermione instead of the wizard he desired only moments before to murder with his bare hands, Bill released his hold on the angry man. Hermione summoned an empty chair behind Lucius and with another lazy swish, his tall form fell into the seat with the sticking charm Antonin used to keep Rabastan Lestrange stuck in his chair when he wished to fondle Hermione in the wine cellar. A smirk crossed Antonin's features at the display until Hermione applied the same sticking charm to him. Both men glared at her even fiercer than they had with the silencing charm.

"When this war is all over, my girl, you should seriously consider joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I get the feeling you'd make one hell of an interrogator," Kingsley said visibly impressed by her performance.

"I will keep that in mind, Kingsley," she replied as she scowled back and forth between Antonin and Lucius. "Now what on earth did I just interrupt?"

Every single man in the kitchen immediately looked embarrassed and none of them would meet Hermione's eyes. It didn't take a Ravenclaw to figure out she had been at least part of the discussion. She was really getting exhausted with everyone talking about her when she wasn't around. Knowing that everyone was speculating on the true paternity of her child behind her back and also knowing that the two wizards currently stuck to their chairs were constantly trying to prove their dominance over the other with her affections as their prize, she almost missed the halcyon days of traversing the countryside alone one step ahead of her enemies. Freezing in a tent in Scotland was more appealing than facing the scene in the kitchen.

"We were _attempting_ to discuss terms with Mr. Dolohov," Kingsley explained after an uncomfortable silence.

"What kind of terms?" she asked turning towards Antonin.

The mute wizard was trying to speak. He raised his eyebrows and begged Hermione to lift the spell with only his eyes. She obliged.

"You know I hate when you do that to me, _golubushka_ ," Antonin said.

Lucius attempted to lunge at Antonin the moment the Russian endearment came out of his mouth, but the sticking charm was quite effective. His silent form returned his glare to Hermione which she promptly ignored.

"Neither you nor Lucius were willing to shut up long enough to further any form of rational discussion. I am not sorry," Hermione replied. "So what kind of terms? For what?"

Antonin sighed.

"Terms for the defection of several high-ranking Death Eaters to the Resistance," he answered.

"How many Death Eaters?" asked Kingsley.

"The easier question to ask would be which of us would _not_ be willing."

Hermione and everyone else in the room were taken aback by Antonin's response. No one expected more than just a few to be interested, assuming this all wasn't some clever ruse to lure them all into a trap. For now, none of the Resistance members were discounting that possibility.

"All right," answered Kingsley. "Who would _not_ be willing?"

"The Carrows, obviously," Antonin replied. "You'll find that only the most ardent Death Eaters left are now the most unstable."

"Murder and rape not as lucrative as it once was?" asked Neville with the harshest tone Hermione had ever heard come out of his mouth. She knew he was thinking about the vicious way his poor parents were dispatched in Diagon Alley over a year prior.

"I was not involved in the attacks against your parents, Mr. Longbottom."

"No, maybe you weren't involved in theirs specifically, Dolohov, but you were certainly involved in the murders and rapes of other people's parents!"

Antonin closed his eyes at the accusations. Hermione knew that he hated sexual assault of any kind. Knew that he'd never raped anyone personally, but no one could deny his past wasn't littered with the bodies of Muggles and so-called blood traitors he tortured and killed sometimes just for the pure joy in the act. Aberforth put a hand on Neville's shoulder in an attempt to both calm and comfort the young man.

"It's all right, son," Aberforth muttered to Neville. "Everyone always gets their just deserts in the end. Dolohov may be willing to help us now, but in the end he will be forced to pay for his crimes. Everyone will."

Neville seemed placated for the moment by the elderly wizard's words. They'd formed a tight partnership since the days of Neville and the rest of the DA hiding in the Room of Requirement. Neville appreciated Aberforth's opinions. Their relationship had developed into the closest father-son connection that either of them had ever known. They were both fiercely loyal and protective of each other. There was a reason why Neville's baby son had the middle name Aberforth.

"Who else?" Kingsley asked, choosing to ignore and move on from Neville's outbursts. "Who else would _not_ be interested?"

"Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Walden Macnair," Antonin listed. "I feel certain that just about everyone else could be persuaded to turn their cloaks given proper incentives."

"Is loyalty to your Dark Lord so fickle?" Aberforth asked. "I was always under the assumption that you Death Eaters were in it for life."

"Yes, well, that was the initial plan," Antonin answered. "Until the reality of what life was like under the Dark Lord's complete control became evident. Some of his methods have left a bitter taste in the mouths of more than one of us terrifying murderers."

"How can we trust that any of you Death Eaters mean what you say and won't turn tail back to You-Know-Who at the first sign of trouble?" demanded Bill. He'd remained silent through the entire discussion. "I would love to bring my wife and children home to be raised in the country of my birth, but I don't really see how we can simply trust you at your word."

"Following Yaxley's failure to kill Lucius at the Azkaban battle, the Dark Lord had Macnair bring in Yaxley's five year old daughter to one of our meetings. Yaxley was forced to perform every single curse he attempted on Lucius on his own daughter. He wished to teach Yaxley a lesson in improving his dueling techniques to assure next time he met an adversary they would not get away. Did I mention that Yaxley was put under the Imperius Curse by the Dark Lord before he was forced to torture and ultimately murder his own child? He wasn't able to resist even if we all knew he wanted to."

Hermione felt the ever-present tears build up in her eyes at Antonin's horrific story. Even a bastard like Yaxley deserved some sympathy after that. Antonin met Hermione's eyes and looked sick.

"Hermione, maybe you shouldn't be here for this," Antonin suggested. For a moment he pretended they were the only two people in the room. If he hadn't been magically stuck to his chair, Hermione felt certain he would be trying to embrace her and force her outside of the kitchen. "This can't be good for you in your condition."

Hermione ignored the concerned looks shot in her direction by all seven men. She was pregnant, not some simpleminded child, for Merlin's sake!

"No, I'm staying."

"As you wish. I know better than to argue with you when your mind is made up."

All of the men chuckled just a little at Antonin's statement. They were all familiar with her stubborn temper.

"Thorfinn Rowle's younger sister was raped in front of him by some of the more deranged Death Eaters. She was kept in a room in the dungeons of the school for weeks as a way to both punish Thor for his many mistakes and to insure his continued loyalty. Reina is his only living relative and he is extremely protective of her. He had to witness her defilement dozens of times before the Dark Lord released her half-mad and pregnant.

"Cadmus Mulciber's entire family, his wife, his elderly mother and his three small children were all subjected to the Cruciatus Curse on multiple occasions before the Dark Lord wiped all of their memories with an exceptionally strong _obliviate_. Every single one of them occupies their own bed in St. Mungo's long term spell damage ward. There is some hope that his children's minds may be recovered, but no hope for his wife and mother.

"Travers recently returned from a mission with bad news for the Dark Lord that he had no control over. The Dark Lord was so incensed by his report that he ripped Travers' tongue out with his bare hands. He almost died.

"Would you like me to continue? I can assure you that I have at least one story for every single disillusioned one of us."

"What's your story?" Neville demanded. "Why are you so hell bent on forsaking your oath of loyalty for our cause?"

Antonin's eyes flashed in Hermione's direction for half a second. Though it happened quickly, no one in the room missed the gesture.

"I would think my reasons for wanting to ensure the tumbling of the Dark Lord would be obvious by now. There is no future in this world I assisted the Dark Lord in creating. Are you a father, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes," Neville answered taken aback by the personal nature of the question.

"Then do you want a world that you can raise your child in and keep your wife safe in that you never have to worry that arseholes like me are going to beat down your door in the middle of the night? Never have to worry that if you were blessed by a beautiful daughter that she could be taken from you and chained up in some freak's basement where he could take his pleasure from her whenever he wished? Or your wife for that matter? I know for a fact that Crabbe and Goyle have never once taken a marriage vow seriously."

"That's rich coming from you after what you did to Hermione," He snorted.

"Neville!" she shouted.

"What, 'Mione?" Neville shouted back at her. "You cannot seriously be defending this murderous piece of trash? Do you remember the Department of Mysteries? Because I certainly do! He almost killed both of us with absolutely no hesitation on his part. He murdered Professor Lupin and Professor Flitwick. He kidnapped you, for Circe's sake! Held you hostage for months doing god knows what to you, though I think I'm safe in assuming brainwashing was part of the ordeal. All of this of course before he foisted his worthless bastard on you! How many times did he have to rape you or were you so fucked up in the head that you just gave it away?!"

Hermione had her wand on Neville in less than a heartbeat. One non-verbal spell sent the once sweet, round-faced boy she remembered flying through the kitchen backwards out of the large window. Neville landed in a heap outside of the cottage with nothing more than a sore arse and a bruised ego. Hermione had never felt the raw surge of magic and anger coursing through her entire body. Finally she understood how Lucius felt the night Rabastan almost raped her. The sheer power flowing through her was both exhilarating and exhausting. She knew she was going to need an outlet for the energy soon.

She couldn't meet any of the eyes in the room though she knew they were all staring right at her. No one, least of all Hermione, had expected such a display of violence on her part even after the harsh words her old friend said. They shouldn't have been surprised though. What mother can just stand by while their child was so callously insulted? Hermione knew she would never feel regret for her actions and she would never, ever apologize to Neville for throwing him through a closed window. She really was capable of doing so much worse.

Neville's red face came barreling through the back door moments after the shock of being airborne wore off. The other men were unsure how to proceed. Lucius reached his hand over to take hers, but a sharp volt of energy shot out of her hand into his. Silently he cursed the pain. Her first instinct was to run away, put as much space between herself and the gathering in the kitchen as possible. She turned towards the door, but stopped herself moments later. She was going to be strong even if she didn't feel like it.

"Do you have anything you wish to add to your previous statement, Neville?" Her voice was chillingly calm. Neville and the others fought a shudder at the sound. "Does anyone else have something they wish to add to Neville's previous statement?"

No one said a word. Satisfied with their reactions, Hermione turned back to Kingsley.

"Would you care to continue, Kingsley?" she said, her voice returned to some semblance of normal.

"I meant what I said earlier, Hermione. You'd make a bloody good interrogator."

Hermione gave Kingsley a small smile before he continued.

"You said earlier that you and your associates would be willing to switch sides with the right incentives," Kingsley continued his questioning of Antonin. "What sort of incentives?"

"Immunity once the war is over."

The room practically exploded once more after Antonin's statement. Everyone, with the exception of Hermione who was still quite upset and Lucius who still had a silencing spell on him, immediately began talking over each other.

"That's insane!" - Bill

"You cannot be serious, man!" - Kingsley

"After what happened to my parents?" – Neville

"So many people have been killed by your lot!" – Arthur

"Not bloody likely!" – Aberforth

"It's that or no help from us," Antonin answered. "You can continue to fight skirmish by skirmish. How many _years_ do you think it will take? How many of you will even be alive that long?"

"Complete immunity seems a bit much, Dolohov," Kingsley replied. "And especially since you've already been in Azkaban twice! Should we simply ignore your previous life sentence?"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders.

"The world as we all knew it basically ended when Harry Potter died in the Great Hall," Antonin said. "I would say that my past does not matter."

"Like Hell it doesn't!" shouted Neville.

The room exploded once more into shouts and more arguments. Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off the tension headache that had been building since she threw Neville through the window. They were getting nowhere. Hermione held up a hand and shouted a single word.

"Enough!"

Such was the power that was still crackling off of her that the room fell silent. All attention was on her.

"Exile," she said in a softer tone of voice. Her eyes bore into Antonin's dark brown eyes. "Those Death Eaters who want to fight on our side will be allowed under some conditions that I'm sure Kingsley can negotiate with you on. The Death Eaters who do not aid the Resistance will be executed when You-Know-Who falls. We cannot afford another mass breakout of Death Eaters intent on trying to resurrect their fallen lord's agenda. They don't fight for us, they don't survive.

"Those Death Eaters who choose to fight with us will be allowed to live their lives and have futures with their families, but they will not do so in this country. Once the war is over, they must _all_ leave and never come back."

Antonin never once blinked during her proposal. They could have been the only two people in the house based on how they completely ignored everyone around them. The fearsome Death Eater let her words sink in a few beats before responding.

"Is this what you want, _daragaya_? When this is all over, you want us all to leave this country and never come back?"

"Yes, Antonin. That is what I want."

"Is that a fair compromise, Mr. Shacklebolt?" Antonin asked.

Kingsley surveyed the room. Every head nodded in agreement. Hermione's idea had merit.

"Yes, Mr. Dolohov. I believe we can all agree to that solution."

"All right. If Hermione would be so kind as to unstick me from my chair and if you will kindly return my wand to me, I will be glad to present this proposal to my associates for their consideration."

Hermione removed the spell from Antonin and the two spells from Lucius. She took Lucius' hand in hers to lead him out of the room. Antonin watched them cross the kitchen holding hands with a pained expression he was able to keep well masked from everyone but Hermione. She knew his vulnerabilities too well to be fooled. Before she pushed the door open, she turned back around to meet his eyes again.

"Goodbye, Antonin."

"Goodbye, _lyubimaya_."

She closed the kitchen door and pulled Lucius towards the stairs. He started to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him. She dragged him somewhat willingly to the smallest bedroom. At the door she pushed him inside and slammed the door shut. With her wand she performed multiple locking and silencing charms around the room. Lucius stared at her as if he had never seen her before. He seemed mildly apprehensive and extremely aroused.

Hermione moved the two feet to close the gap between their bodies. Her hair was standing on end. She could still feel the powerful magic that she unleashed in her anger towards Neville. Remembering the amazing sensations created when Lucius had to find an outlet for his own magic the night of the horrible party, Hermione placed both of her small hands on Lucius' chest. His eyes began to darken and his breathing hitched at her touch. One sharp shove and the wizard landed on the bed on his back.

"Take your clothes off," she ordered.

The wizard needed no additional encouragement. Every stitch of clothing on his body was removed in mere seconds. Hermione took her time slowly undressing for his benefit. His eyes followed her every movement with delicious anticipation. They had not been intimate in several days. Between the never ending morning sickness and then the arguments they'd had the past few days, neither of them really felt up to anything more intimate than just a quick peck on the cheek before bed each night. With the drama of New Years, Lucius hadn't even kissed Hermione since.

She began to slowly unbutton her blouse. Lucius counted every single button as it came undone. At the last one, she pushed the shirt off of her shoulders and let if fall to the floor. Lucius couldn't take his eyes off of the breasts that were already beginning to swell with the hormones of early pregnancy. His eyes roamed over her almost bare torso and she was pleased to see that she was having a positive effect on his own anatomy.

"I'm sick to tears of fighting with you, Lucius," she said as she started unbuttoning her pants next.

"So am I, my darling," he answered, his voice already grown hoarse from the shouting downstairs.

She stood in the middle of their bedroom clad in nothing but her underwear.

"I love you, you stubborn man."

"I love you too."

She unhooked her bra and let it drop to the floor. Lucius' hands clenched into fists in an effort to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing her. He wasn't fooled by her display. She was completely in control of what happened next.

"I am not some porcelain doll that you have to handle carefully out of fear that I might break."

Slowly she pulled her knickers down her thighs. Lucius' eyes travelled down her body in frank appreciation for what he saw standing in front of him. Hermione stepped out of her knickers becoming every bit as naked as the wizard lying in front of her.

"You haven't been treating me right, Lucius."

She crawled into the bed with her legs straddling either side of his legs. In a torturously languid manner, she began to slide her naked body up over his. Lucius held his breath without even being aware he was doing so.

"No matter what has happened, Lucius, I'm still the same witch you fell in love with standing in the kitchen in your pajamas," she spoke directly into his ear with a breathy whisper.

She lowered her mouth to his. Within moments they were both breathless from their unsated desires.

"I need you, Lucius. No matter what you are afraid of, I cannot survive without you. You are my oxygen."

No further words were needed. Hermione intertwined her hands in his, holding them on either side of his head. She captured his lips in another passionate kiss as she brought her hips up to straddle his. When she released his lips moments later to his disappointment, she used his second of distraction to lower herself onto him. Lucius groaned at the sensation.

"You will be my undoing, witch."

Hours passed before they were completely satiated. Darkness had already fallen outside and the winter storm that had only been a threat that morning became a reality. Hermione laid her head on Lucius' chest as they caught their breath and relaxed back into the familiar intimacy they had been missing in the previous weeks.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior downstairs earlier," Lucius said breaking the silence disturbed only by the whistling wind outside.

"It's all right, Lucius."

"No, it is not. I behaved like an animal. Seeing Antonin again last night made me very angry. I wanted to rip him limb from limb."

She snuggled into his chest and gave the flushed skin there a quick kiss. Lucius tightened his arm around her, holding her closer.

"When you actually _chose_ to go downstairs to speak to him, I became very jealous."

"I love _you_ , Lucius. Not him."

"I do know that my darling. I was not behaving rationally."

"No, Lucius. You behaved exactly as was expected considering whom he is and what he has done to us in the past. I was the one who behaved irrationally."

"To wish to provide medical attention to an injured hostage is not irrational. I should have healed his injuries before we arrived at the cottage. Or at least had Bill or Kingsley do so. It was pure spite that prevented me from allowing it."

She didn't want to start another argument with him so she kept silent. No use arguing with a man who already knew he was wrong. Waste of energy.

"This afternoon when you walked in the kitchen I was ready to murder the bastard."

"What happened exactly?"

Lucius sighed causing Hermione's head to bounce on his chest.

"Antonin asked where you were. Said that he was concerned about you after an upsetting argument you two had this morning. It was innocent enough, I suppose, but I let my anger get the better of me. I told him that your whereabouts and wellbeing were none of his business despite what he thought might have changed. It escalated quickly from there."

"I see." She had known all along that the disagreement began because of her.

"Then when he called you that… I did not understand it, but I know a pet name when I hear one. I did not appreciate his familiarity with you."

She kissed his chest once more.

"That's completely understandable considering our history."

"What did he call you anyway? What does it mean?"

" _Golubushka_. It means little dove. He calls me that when he's being patronizing. 'You have less sense than a little bird, _golubushka_ '. It's his way of saying I'm naïve and innocent. You know how much I love being called naïve."

Lucius laughed. They had had more arguments about that word than any other topic it seemed. Hermione could not stand it when Lucius used their vast difference in age as a way to assert his superior intelligence or experience over her. It was infuriating.

"He called you something else when he was asking you if you wanted him to be exiled."

" _Daragaya_. It translates to 'expensive', but he said it's like 'darling' or 'dear'. He only calls me that when he is being very serious."

"What did he call you right before we left the kitchen?"

"I don't know. He's never said that to me before."

They laid there in silence for a little while, neither of them wishing to break the spell of the moment.

"What did you argue with Antonin about downstairs?" Lucius finally asked.

Hermione knew it would only be a matter of time before he asked what the argument was about. She sat up in the bed and started to move off. Lucius impeded her progress. He wrapped his arm firmly around and returned her back to his chest.

"Where are you going?" he asked, unable to hide the note of hurt in his tone.

She didn't want to tell him the truth, but couldn't really see any other way around it.

"Antonin believes that my baby is his," she answered.

"Why does he believe so?"

"He claims that he can sense it. Last night he could tell I was pregnant after seeing my stomach for a moment. He put his hand on my belly and said that he could sense new life inside me."

Lucius exhaled slowly.

"What does that mean, Lucius? Is he right?"

"No, my darling. It does not necessarily mean he is the father. I am certain it is simply wishful thinking on his part."

"Were you able to sense when Narcissa was pregnant?"

His entire body tensed up at the mention of his late wife. It always did.

"I was when she was pregnant with Draco, but with Lyra she was a complete surprise."

"Maybe it's only male children."

"I have never heard of that, Hermione. I believe Antonin is a desperate man who is looking for something he can bind himself to you with. I do not believe this child is his."

Lucius placed his hand on top of her blooming baby bump. He rubbed his hand across her belly in such a gentle, protective manner that Hermione almost burst into tears for the hundredth time that day.

"He said that you would never love my child. That if it turned out that he was the father, you would come to loathe the child and resent me for having it."

"Oh, my darling!"

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her belly once more.

"I would _never_ resent you and I could never loathe our child."

"If it's really Antonin's…"

"It is not, Hermione. I have already claimed this child as my own. He is simply trying to sow discord in our relationship. Hoping that if you start to doubt me, he can swoop in and pick up the pieces of your broken heart. He is grasping at straws, my love."

She closed her eyes and prayed that Lucius was right.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty Eight

Antonin was able to get a message to Kingsley within days that several of his fellow Death Eaters were willing to endure exile from their homeland in exchange for their assistance. The number of willing defectors was simply unbelievable. Either life as one of Lord Voldemort's top Death Eaters had become truly unbearable or, as many within the Resistance feared, this was all just another vicious tactic of the side of the Dark to render them all helpless.

Hermione had no fear that Antonin was lying. She couldn't describe exactly how she was certain she knew he was sincere, but she was. He wanted a world where she could be free again and if the child she was carrying really did belong to him, he had one more large incentive to fight for a life free from the dangerous clutches of a half-serpentine mad man. She hoped that in time other members of the Resistance would come to trust as well.

"Arthur said that a large group would be arriving today," Lucius announced between kisses up and down Hermione's neck as he tried to slowly wake her up. She was becoming more and more of a heavy sleeper the longer her pregnancy wore on. She never seemed to get enough sleep so the two permanent male residents of Shell Cottage made certain that they were always quiet in the mornings and late evenings to ensure she got the rest her body desperately needed. "He thought you might like to be a part of the discussion."

"What is it about?" she asked, certain that if Lucius continued doing what he was doing with his mouth neither of them would be getting out of bed any time soon.

"Next big engagement, I am sure. We have all been very quiet this winter on both sides."

He was correct, of course. With only a few more days remaining in the month of February, almost nothing of any value had been completed by the Resistance for months. Well, other than Tildie successfully spiking Lord Voldemort's daily potion of unicorn blood with a weakening agent. Even that, however, was not generating results quickly. Too much weakening at once would draw unwelcome suspicions on Horace Slughorn. It could get him killed and if he were killed, the next potions master Voldemort assigned to brew his stabilization potion might be more careful with security. Tildie may be unable to continue her doctoration of the blood. Worst of all, if sabotage was suspected, Draco would be the obvious choice. The son of the third most Undesirable in the country was already under enough scrutiny.

"Arthur did warn me that Mr. Longbottom is expected to be in attendance today," Lucius said.

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Neville's name. She had not seen him since the day almost two months earlier when she'd sent him crashing through a large window after he insulted Antonin and accused him of raping her to knock her up with his "worthless bastard". Neville had wisely been avoiding her ever since. Even his wife Hannah who had been known to visit the cottage a couple of times a week had not been around. She was secretly thankful that she hadn't had to deal with any of the Longbottoms.

"Will you be all right to attend, my dear?" Lucius was worried about her. Though they'd retreated back somewhat to their familiar intimacy almost as if the three months with Antonin never happened, Hermione had been isolating herself again from the other members of the Resistance.

"I will," she promised though only half-heartedly. "I'm just sick of all the damned gossip."

Lucius kissed her once more and lay down on the bed beside her with his arms wrapped around her entire body. If there was anyone else who could understand how infuriating the Resistance gossip mill could be, it was Lucius. He was almost as interesting a topic of discussion as Hermione. Following Antonin's abrupt and bloody entrance into the safe house New Year's Eve and the display of Lucius physically holding Hermione back from running to the side of the Death Eater, speculations and discussion of their blasted love triangle had been common throughout all of the safe houses in Britain. If Lucius learned that Lee Jordan's outpost in Arizona or the Australian base was apprised of the situation, he would not be surprised. Their idle chatter was damaging to his witch and it made him very angry. Part of him considered whisking her away to some quiet South Pacific island to live out the remainder of the war. If he thought for a moment that Hermione would be willing to abandon the cause she'd lost her two best friends to, Lucius would move them in a heartbeat.

"Do you think they will ever get sick of talking about my life?" Hermione asked with a catch in her throat.

Lucius kissed the top of her head. He wanted to lie to her, but she needed to hear the truth.

"Probably not, my darling. You have about three more months before our baby is due. Plenty of tongues will be wagging about who the father is. Then once he is born the gossip will continue as everyone who sees him tries to decide which one of his potential fathers he looks like. Then, I am afraid, even if his paternity is one hundred percent evident after birth, the small minds will continue to gossip."

Hermione sighed.

"You know, Lucius, when I told you to tell me the truth, I didn't mean you had to tell me the _whole_ truth."

"Would you prefer that I lie? Because we can both pretend that no one cares if you would rather."

"No, I need the truth. No sense running away from it. Too bad we're just so bloody fascinating."

Lucius' chuckle in her ear delighted Hermione and she joined him in the laughter. She could hardly believe at times how much her life had changed in the past two months since the worst New Years of her life. Well, worst New Year's _day_. The night had been pretty fucking fantastic.

"What do you think the next big engagement will be, Lucius?"

He had been giving that very question a lot of thought in recent days. If they were truly able to rely on help from Antonin and his "Disillusioned Death Eaters", then the end might very well be coming quite soon. They needed to take control of the Ministry and then ultimately destroy the source of all evil. The Dark Lord stationed himself at Hogwarts to take charge of the next generation of magical minds. He would need to be defeated likely in the very same place where Harry Potter was killed almost two years earlier.

"I assume we will be dealing with the Ministry next," he answered. "But I am not one hundred percent certain. There may be something else that I am unaware of. Kingsley has not been by in a long time."

Hermione reluctantly sat up in bed dislodging herself from Lucius' embrace as she did so. She leaned her back against the headboard and clutched her right wrist with her left hand. Antonin's trick with the pressure points on the inside of her wrists was helpful first thing when she woke up. Her bloody useless healer-in-training continued to assure her that morning sickness would lessen the further along she got in her pregnancy. So far he had been dead wrong. While it wasn't as severe as those first few months, every day she still felt mild nausea. Other than that and just the sheer exhaustion she felt at all times, her pregnancy had progressed well. She would be glad when the end of May or the beginning of June arrived.

"Are you feeling all right?" Lucius asked.

"Just the usual. Give me a few minutes and it will pass."

"Would you like me to bring you up something to eat?"

Lucius was always attentive to her needs, but when he got into his mother hen-mode she wanted to scream. It was becoming evident that he and Arthur Weasley were spending entirely too much time together. They both channeled Molly Weasley and fussed and fretted over her all day long. One or both of them were always making her the dreadful decaffeinated tea that the healer allowed or were in the kitchen thinking up new foods to tempt her non-existent appetite. She appreciated their efforts, but she was being slowly smothered into madness.

"Please stop worrying so much about food, Lucius. You know how much I hate that."

He knew better than to take her sharp comments personally. A tired Hermione was an irritable Hermione and she had been tired for months. Lucius leaned across the bed to give her a quick peck on the cheek before getting up. He had been up and dressed for hours assisting Arthur downstairs getting the cottage ready for the meeting of the Resistance leaders. Their safe house was by far the largest of the homes available for use. Kingsley would've offered the use of the small house in Kent that he used to share with Ryan, but because he was now the person that the Death Eaters wishing to defect contacted directly, it didn't seem safe for the leaders of the Resistance to take too many meetings there.

"I will be downstairs if you need me," Lucius said as he walked out of the bedroom.

Hermione was grateful for a few minutes alone whenever she got the chance. She knew Lucius and Arthur meant well, but sometimes they hindered more than they helped. Especially Lucius. He had been determined since their massive fight at the beginning of the year to put her needs first and he'd made tremendous efforts in trying to bring their relationship back to what it had been. They both knew that their relationship had irrevocably changed. He was determined that the changes would only be positive. She appreciated the efforts.

The sound of the front door to the cottage opening and closing followed by the arrival of multiple familiar voices finally prompted Hermione to get out of bed. Tempting as it was to stay hidden away in the tiny bedroom while everyone downstairs made plans on how they were going to continue to fight this war, she knew she was needed. While she wouldn't be able to contribute physically in any way, she knew that her mind had always been her greatest weapon. She dressed as quickly as her increasingly clumsy body would allow her.

Every living member of the Weasley family was assembled in the large kitchen when Hermione finally made it downstairs. Hermione pushed open the door and was greeted with a sea of red hair and freckled smiling faces. Before her eyes could even adjust to the scene, a small, but fierce feminine form had her arms wrapped around Hermione.

"'Mione! I've missed you so much!" Ginny was laughing in Hermione's ear, a sure sign that she was trying to keep herself from crying.

"Ginny? I thought you were in Ireland."

The two young witches broke their embrace apart. Ginny smiled back at her friend and Hermione burst into tears. While she had always been closer friends with Harry and Ron, Hermione had not realized how much she missed her friendship with Ginny until she was standing in front of her for the first time in almost two solid years. They had not seen the other since the day of the failed battle that claimed the lives of so many of their loved ones.

"You certainly look a bit different," Ginny teased as she took a good look at Hermione's heavily pregnant form. She giggled when she saw the deep blushes creep up on her older friend's cheeks. Hermione was too easy at times.

"Yes, well, you look older," Hermione replied.

Ginny laughed and hugged Hermione close again.

"I am so glad you are safe now, 'Mione," she whispered so that no one else could hear. "I've been so worried about you."

"Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny pulled out of the embrace and began to speak in a louder voice.

"Dean and I arrived last night. We're staying with George and Angie."

Hermione missed the arrival of her fellow Gryffindor Dean Thomas during her embrace with Ginny. Dean gave her a quick hug before stepping back to Ginny's side. The protective hand he placed on the small of Ginny's back didn't go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Charlie's comment on New Year's about her wanting to be where Dean was suddenly made a lot more sense. Hermione smiled at the reunited couple and hoped that their relationship this time would bring them both some happiness. Everyone deserved to have someone they loved during times like these. She felt Lucius' hand on her back in much the same manner as Dean's on Ginny's.

"Mr. Thomas, have you had the opportunity to visit Miss Lovegood any time recently?" he asked, anxious to know anything about his grandson and his mother.

"Yes, I actually just saw them last week," Dean replied with a bright smile. "They are doing wonderfully, Mr. Malfoy. Xeno is getting huge! He's trying to walk. Luna asked me to give you this if I happened to see you when I came."

Dean handed Lucius a small photograph from the pocket of his jacket. Lucius held it in his hands as if it were made of fairy wings and gold. His beautiful silvery grey eyes filled up with tears. He smiled down at the photograph before showing it to Hermione. Luna was holding a much larger Xeno in her lap. The handsome infant was almost nine months old now. He was smiling to the camera and waving his chubby little hands. He was Draco in miniature, a Draco before the stress and pain of the war had gotten to him. She handed it back to Lucius who had been using the last few seconds to compose himself. Arthur came up behind them to clap Lucius on the back.

"You didn't do him justice, Lucius. He's even more beautiful than you said he was."

"Thank you, Arthur. You are correct. He is even more exquisite than I remember."

Lucius slipped the photograph into his pocket.

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas. This means a great deal to me."

The front door opened in the other room to admit even more Resistance members. Hermione was feeling a little overwhelmed by the crush of Weasleys inside of the kitchen. She slipped out of the room to greet whoever just arrived. Kingsley was alone in the lounge. They exchanged warm smiles and brief hugs. As time went on, the former auror was beginning to resume a little bit more of his former self. Hermione knew that he was still grieving, but his determination to finish this war once and for all was giving him purpose. He seemed to be taking better care of himself which she was pleased to see.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Everyone always asked her that question and while she appreciated the concern, it was getting rather old.

"I'm all right. Just tired, but I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Kingsley smiled his familiar smile at her.

"Mr. Dolohov was asking after you yesterday," he informed her with a hesitancy he couldn't hide. "He is concerned for your health and well, you understand."

"Yes, I do. You may pass on the message the next time you see him that I am, no, we are _both,_ doing well. And is he?"

"He has been able to provide some invaluable information already. I do not like the man and I will never change my opinion of him, but he does at least seem to be sincere about doing what he can to help bring about You-Know-Who's demise."

"I'm glad to hear that he has been able to help. I believe he is sincere as well."

Their conversation was interrupted by the opening of the front door once more. Three familiar figures entered the lounge. Aberforth Dumbledore nodded curtly to the two of them before heading towards the kitchen without saying a word. Hannah and Neville Longbottom entered just behind. Neville met Hermione's eyes for half a second before dropping his gaze to his feet and turning bright red. Hannah took Neville's arm firmly with her hand to drag him over to Hermione.

"Hermione, I believe my husband has something he would like to say to you," Hannah announced with a gruff tone that would allow no argument. "Don't you, Neville?"

Neville lifted his eyes from his feet to look back into Hermione's. He seemed as if he would rather face Lord Voldemort himself with nothing but a Muggle switchblade than to speak to his old friend again.

"'Mione, I owe you an apology," he squeaked out.

"You're damn right you owe her an apology!" Hannah practically shouted. "She is one of your oldest friends and I am completely _disgusted_ by what you said to her the last time you were here."

"I'm very sorry, Hermione," he said, his eyes misting with humiliation and the knowledge of how much his behavior hurt his friend. "I _never_ should have said what I said to you."

"No, Neville, you really shouldn't have," Hermione replied. "But I can understand your anger. _Understand_ it, not justify it. I accept your apology."

Neville nodded once at her and rushed out the room as quickly as he could. Hannah stayed behind. Her own face was bright red with a variety of emotions and her own tears were streaming down her face. She threw her arms around Hermione's bulky frame.

"I am so sorry, Hermione. I didn't know what he said to you until just late last night. If it hadn't been after midnight I would've insisted that he come over right then to apologize."

"It's all right, Hannah."

The Hufflepuff pushed away from Hermione's embrace gently.

"No, it's not! He told me that the two of you had a disagreement the last time he was here. Said it was nothing serious but it might be best if we gave you some time to cool down. I just assumed you both had some harsh words for each other, but I had no clue what he said. It's just awful!"

"I'm all right, Hannah."

"Yes, well, no thanks to my arsehole husband. He and Ab were talking late last night. I walked in and demanded to know what he said. If I had known how serious this was, Hermione, we would've been here much sooner."

Hermione excused herself from the room to escape back upstairs. She suddenly found herself in the mood to be alone. Too many tears had already been shed over that horrible New Year's Day. It had taken several days, but when the impact of Neville's unbelievably cruel words hit her, she'd been inconsolable. To know that her oldest living friend was truly of the opinion that she had gone insane because she was attempting to defend the Death Eater who had saved her life on more than one occasion, had been devastating. And then to actually hear someone she loved call her child a worthless bastard was the final straw. She'd broken down in the bathtub one morning. Lucius had to carry her to bed and hold her for what she was certain were many hours to calm her down. Neville had no idea to what extent his words had truly injured her.

She lay back down in the bed that she had only recently vacated. The sounds of the house steadily filling up with people drifted up the stairs and down the corridor. Sometimes being around so many people after so much time of isolation was petrifying. She knew that one day she would have to relearn how to be in large groups, but for now, she wasn't ashamed to hide away in the bedroom. The Resistance members were going to talk about her as if she wasn't there even if she was. There seemed no point in giving them the satisfaction of her presence.

"Here you are," Lucius said about twenty or so minutes later when he opened the door. He crossed the room to sit on the bed next to her supine form. "I have been wondering where you were."

"I didn't feel like being a bloody animal in the zoo with everyone staring and gawking at me again," she answered. Her head was lying on the pillow faced away from her wizard. She started to push his hand away when he began running it through her hair, but thought better of it. "Everyone always stares at me and whispers about me. I'm bloody sick of it, Lucius."

"Where is that famous Gryffindor courage everyone in your House is supposed to possess?" he teased.

"Must have left it on the floor of the Great Hall the day my best friend died."

Her melancholic moods had been increasing as time wore on. Lucius leaned down to kiss the top of her head. He stretched out behind her, spooning her form into his.

"Did Mr. Longbottom say something else to upset you, my darling?"

"No, he apologized to me."

"Did he?"

"Well, Hannah forced him to anyway. She was angry with him and ashamed."

"I am pleased to learn that at least one member of the Longbottom family has some sense about them then."

Hermione could not stop the flood of tears that gushed from her eyes. She was so tired of crying all of the time. Some days it felt like she had been crying for three entire years never ceasing.

"I want to go home, Lucius," she cried. He could sympathize. Lucius ran his arm up and down her side in an effort to calm her sobs. "I want to sleep in our own bed again. Sit in the study by the fireplace. Eat breakfast in the kitchen. Spend the morning walking the grounds with you."

"I do as well, my dear."

"I can't stand this place anymore, Lucius. I'm afraid that I'm going to suffocate in this house. It's driving me bloody crazy! And don't you _dare_ blame this on my hormones. If I hear one more person tell me that I'm feeling the way I'm feeling because of my pregnancy hormones, I swear I will Avada them on the spot!"

Lucius was thankful that her back was blocking his smirk from her view. She was certainly not the only one feeling that way. He missed his home tremendously. Missed his dogs, poor creatures. Missed his son. Missed his books. Missed his wine cellar. Missed the freedom he once had to walk up and down Diagon Alley without fear of being arrested or murdered. He longed for the day that he could take Hermione back home to the manor to live the rest of their lives in peace with his son's family living in an another wing of the same house.

"Everyone is so quick to dismiss my feelings because I'm pregnant. Fucking maddening!"

Lucius couldn't disguise his chuckle. His witch grew more obscene the more upset she was. He found it positively adorable.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!"

He kissed the top of her head once more. She seemed at least slightly appeased by the affectionate gesture.

"You should probably head back downstairs," she said after they lay there for several minutes in relative silence. The only noises came from the members of the Resistance arriving downstairs and moving around the house.

"Do you not wish to join me, Hermione?"

"Not right now. Maybe later once the meeting is in full swing. I'll see how I'm feeling then."

Lucius removed himself from the bed after placing yet another soft kiss on her head. He promised to pay close attention to anything that she might miss while she remained upstairs.

She must have fallen asleep due to the additional exhaustion brought on by her emotional outburst with Lucius because when she opened her eyes back up, Hermione could sense a shifting in the house. The aura felt a bit off. Not enough to concern her or make her feel unsafe, but she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable staying inside the bedroom.

Hermione descended the stairs carefully. She could feel a presence in the air of magic that had not been there when she was downstairs earlier in the morning. It was unnerving. When she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped to take in the scene before her. Every place that a person could be seated was taken up. Witches and wizards, many Hermione had never seen in her entire life, were standing all over the large open lounge. She could see through the propped open kitchen door that there were even more people inside that room. If she had to estimate the number of people currently in the house, she would have to guess close to a hundred. The cottage never felt so small.

Kingsley was leading the large gathering. She wasn't listening to his words as she continued to observe the room. Occasionally she would hear words like "Ministry", "Raid" and "Imperius" but nothing that made sense to her. Obviously she missed a great deal during her unplanned nap. There was a space next to where Hannah was standing by the front door. Hermione carefully made her way around several strangers seated on the wood floors to reach her friend.

"Did I miss much?" she whispered into Hannah's ear.

"Yes, but it's simple enough to catch up," Hannah whispered back. "We're taking back the Ministry."

She wasn't surprised by that news in the slightest. It was Lucius' assumption when they spoke earlier about what the next big engagement would be. It made the most sense. The Ministry was the first organization infiltrated by Lord Voldemort's influence when the war broke out in earnest. Not only would it be a strategic victory for the Resistance but it would be a boon to the morale of the country if it were back again in the hands of people who could be trusted.

"You did miss Dolohov's plans for how the Death Eaters are going to help," Hannah informed quietly. "Interesting ideas they have."

At the mention of Antonin's name, Hermione's eyes shot up. She'd only glanced around the room earlier. After only two seconds of intense searching, her eyes met a familiar pair of dark brown eyes on the other side of the room. Antonin was seated by the fireplace flanked by four other Death Eaters. A shimmering in front of the dangerous wizards explained the strange sense of magic she felt earlier. They were seated behind a powerful magical shield. Whether it was for their safety or the safety of the Resistance members or perhaps both wasn't clear.

Antonin looked a bit thinner than the last time she saw him, but didn't everybody? The force of his gaze in her direction made her feel self-conscious. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was examining her entire body from afar. His eyes dropped from hers to take in the rest of her body. She'd been unable to wear any of her usual clothes since about week fourteen and had to rely on loose, flowing dresses that did nothing to hide the bulge of her stomach. The tiniest smile crossed his mouth at her appearance before he removed all traces and turned his full attention back to Kingsley.

The other Death Eaters weren't as subtle in their observations. Hermione could feel the intensity of Thorfinn Rowle's hatred flow across the room at her in waves. The large, blond man was openly glaring at her. No doubt he was remembering the day that she modified his memory. He'd been tortured by Draco Malfoy on Lord Voldemort's orders for his failure in capturing Harry. Yaxley and Mulciber glowered in her direction. Travers also seemed displeased to see her in the room.

"Why are they here?" she asked Hannah. "Surely they didn't have to actually come to the meeting."

"Kingsley left right before the meeting began to bring them. They're unable to perform any form of magic while behind that shield. He wanted the Resistance members to actually see them before we entered the Ministry. Thought it might help some of them to trust that they're really going to be on our side."

"Is it working?"

"I don't think so. There was a huge argument about them earlier when they arrived. Several thought they were just trying to infiltrate our organization to sell us out to You Know Who. It took a long time to settle everyone down."

"I didn't hear anything."

"That gorgeous wizard of yours cast some silencing charms on the upstairs so you wouldn't be disturbed."

Lucius was seated only a few feet from the Death Eaters. He turned to look in her direction when he saw the change in Antonin's expression. There were too many people between his spot and the front door for him to join her, but Hermione knew he was itching to. He kept looking between her and his former comrades with an uneasy countenance.

"What about the Minister?" demanded an unknown wizard in the middle of the room with a heavy foreign accent. "What do we do with him?"

There were several mutters around the room as others wondered the same thing.

"Pius Thicknesse has been under a very strong Imperius Curse since before the Ministry fell," answered Kingsley. "We will attempt to capture him without harming him to get him the assistance he needs."

"No!" shouted the unknown wizard. He was not pleased with the assertion that the Minister would be unharmed. "He may be under Imperius, but he doesn't deserve to be let go!"

Hermione stared at the wizard trying to place who he was. He was probably around thirty years old. Not very tall. Maybe only five feet nine inches tall. He had dark, almost black hair, and wire rimmed glasses that reminded her a great deal of Harry's glasses. She thought he was probably Russian or at the very least Eastern European, but she couldn't understand his passionate hatred for the Minister. Yes, Pius Thicknesse was a puppet of the Dark and after hearing from Lucius that he was a regular at the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies, Hermione knew he was a disgusting pig. Why the vehemence from someone not even from their country?

"Who is that?" she asked Hannah in a whisper.

"Yuri Lantsov, I believe his name is. I met him yesterday. He is Katie Bell's new husband."

"Katie? I didn't know she was back in the country."

Katie was one of the over a hundred "Umbridge Girls" that had been snuck out of the country many months earlier. She was still living in Russia the last Hermione heard.

"She's not. She's still in Russia, but her husband volunteered to come when Percy Weasley told him he was coming back to help. They just got married a month ago. Katie was living with his parents after she was rescued. His mother is a Healer. Must have fallen in love. It all sounds very romantic. I wish Katie were here to give us the details, but I know she keeps in touch with Angie. We should ask her later."

The young women were getting annoyed looks from some of the others seated on the floor around them. Hermione turned her attention back to Kingsley.

"The attack will happen very soon," Kingsley announced to the room. "As soon as we know when, we will be contacting everyone to prepare."

A short time later the meeting was over. Several members began to file out of the house to leave. Others remained where they were seated to continue the discussion of what they just heard with those seated around them. Hermione glanced back up in Antonin's direction to find he was looking again in hers. She started to give him a small smile, but immediately thought better of it. There was no sense in encouraging him in any way. She loved Lucius. She had already made her decision and Antonin had already made his. Assuming he was able to survive the fall of his Dark Lord, he would be going into exile.

Kingsley crossed beyond the barrier of the magical shield. After a few quiet words with the Death Eaters in attendance that didn't quite cross the room to meet her ears, he removed what looked like an old butterbeer bottle from his pocket. Antonin took the bottle in his hand and his four associates huddled around him to touch the bottle as well. Hermione's eyes met Antonin's one final time before all five of the Death Eaters disappeared.

Hermione began to notice the whispers once more. As she looked around the room several people, some she knew, but most she didn't, were looking in her direction and whispering to each other. Sure, some of them were likely discussing the events of the meeting, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe that they all were. She paced across the room towards the staircase to escape the stares. Just another lion locked in her damned cage.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

All Hell broke loose at the Ministry of Magic London Headquarters three weeks later. Tuesday the 21st of March began like any other day. Lucius rose before the sun. Kingsley had given the order to all Resistance members the night before to be prepared for battle by nine am. Everyone had been anxious since the announcement for what they knew was coming. There were over thirty Resistance members sleeping scattered throughout Shell Cottage from the attic all the way down to the cellar. Not for the first time Lucius was thankful that he and Hermione were set up in the smallest bedroom. There wasn't even enough space on the floor for another person to lie down on, so they had the benefit of being completely alone in their own little world.

"Is it time to get up already?" Hermione asked failing in her attempt to stifle her yawn.

Lucius leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. He hadn't meant to make any noise while she slept. Her exhaustion as her pregnancy continued had only increased. It was strange to him. He remembered Narcissa being tired when she was pregnant with their two children, but never to the extent that Hermione experienced. Her healer explained that it was likely all of the stress of the war raging around them that caused her fatigue. Lucius sincerely hoped that that was all.

"You should go back to sleep, love. There is no sense in you getting up so early," he answered.

Hermione sat up in bed to watch him as he dressed for the day. She was still annoyed that there was nothing that she could do to contribute to their cause in her current state. Being thirty weeks pregnant pretty much precluded any help she could provide. There was no way she could even be present at the Ministry while the engagement was on. Too much could go wrong to put her and her baby at risk. Her healer reminded them during his last examination of her only two days prior that stress must be kept to an absolute minimum. She could potentially go into labor at any time if she were too stressed. How does one keep a woman who thrived on stress and lived in the midst of the Resistance movement against Lord Voldemort's cruelty stress-free?

Lucius was worried about her constantly. He knew that she was frustrated with what she called his "mother hen" tendencies, but he could not help it. She had become the sun in his world. He could not imagine moving forward with his life without her by his side and in his bed. With the exception of the three month absence that they were mentioning less and less as time went by, he and Hermione had been living together for over a year. In some ways it was the best and the worst year of his life.

"Nice, try, Lucius," she replied. "As if it were possible for me to go back to sleep knowing that you will be leaving soon."

Lucius finished dressing and sat back down on the bed next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"You must try not be stressed, my dear."

Hermione sighed.

"I'm trying, but I think it's no use."

Lucius pulled her body into his lap to allow him the ability to rub her shoulders. The more her belly grew, the more aches and pains she'd been experiencing in her back and shoulders. Hermione closed her eyes the moment he began and groaned. He had the uncanny ability to both stress her out one moment and then completely relax her the next. If he had been available during final exams during school, she was certain she wouldn't have driven her entire House mad each year.

"When do you leave?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Everyone in this house will be leaving about a quarter till nine. We are trying to stagger all of the arrivals. Too many people arriving at once will definitely set off some alarms."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know, my darling." He stopped rubbing her shoulders to pull her body against his chest. With his arms wrapped around her swelling belly, he dropped several kisses on the top of her head. "I wish this wasn't necessary, but if we ever want to return home…"

"I know. I know."

Lucius continued to hold his witch in his arms for a long time until he started to hear the shuffling of others outside of the room. Gradually the cottage was waking up. If he wanted any hope at all of making it into one of the three small bathrooms before the rest of the Resistance members camped around the house were up, he needed to get up soon. If only he weren't sitting in the exact place he wanted to always be.

* * *

Antonin hadn't slept more than two hours at a time for months. He tried to convince himself that the reason was because he was so busy with his part in the Dark Lord's regime. Rarely he arrived home to his cottage before two or three in the morning. The truth he couldn't hide from, however, was that he couldn't sleep in an empty bed. He was forty-seven years old and for forty-six of those years, he hadn't ever had a problem sleeping alone. In fact, even outside of his fifteen years in Azkaban when he had no choice, he never really had any desire to share his bed. It was a much more intimate act than even the physical act of lovemaking. One is at their most vulnerable when they allow themselves to succumb to sleep. To have someone only inches from them in this state required a great amount of trust. No one had ever accused him of being too trusting.

He turned over in his bed to stare at the empty space on the other side of the bed… her side. Three months her beautiful, wild head rested on that pillow. Sometimes he could almost swear that the pillow still smelled like her, but he knew he was only deluding himself. She was gone. Almost every trace of her time in his cottage had since disappeared with time. Her clothes still hung in the closet next to his and her toiletries still littered the counter next to her sink, but it was not the same. They only served to remind him even more acutely that she was no longer his.

The clock on the nightstand showed six am. He knew to expect the summons after nine. Three hours to kill and he couldn't even get back to sleep. Antonin reached over for Hermione's pillow. He wrapped his arms around it in an effort to pretend that it was her, but it was no use. A few seconds later he tossed the pillow across the room in frustration. His mind, as it often did when he was home alone, drifted to thoughts of Hermione. He wondered if she was awake at that moment too. He'd been so surprised to see her weeks earlier at the Resistance safe house. When she hadn't made an appearance over two hours into the meeting, he assumed she wouldn't be coming at all. He was disappointed naturally. As the meeting was beginning to wrap up, he felt his stomach clench when she came walking down the staircase. Dressed in that loose blue dress she couldn't hide the growing bump of her stomach. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

Antonin rose from his cold, empty bed. He wasn't going to get back to sleep with thoughts of her running through his head. Once inside his dark kitchen he had to dig through a half-packed box to find his tea kettle. He'd been in the process of packing up his belongings for weeks. It was hard work because his heart was not in it. He knew that once the war was over he would either be dead or forced to vacate his home. Already he'd sold his cottage with the promise that he would be out of it within the next month. Young Gregory Goyle was getting married to the younger Greengrass girl and they'd both fallen in love with the quaint cottage by the sea. Antonin could understand the desire to want to start their lives together there. He once had the same plan.

He settled at his kitchen table with his steaming cup of tea. A quick _Lumos_ spell lit the tiny space. Antonin sat in his usual seat for several minutes sipping his tea and imagining what the coming day would bring. It was possible that he would die that day. Every time he answered a summons he went with the understanding that he may never return. It had been hard during those three months to leave. Constantly wondering if that was the last time he would ever see Hermione. Now he didn't worry as much about the summons. If he died, he died. One less thing to worry about.

A book lay open on the table. He pulled it closer to reread the passages he'd read the night before over his small solitary dinner. Once he knew that Hermione was pregnant he purchased a book in a Muggle store to find out all he could of what she was experiencing. Other than when he was six years old and his mother was pregnant, he'd never really been around a pregnant witch before. He estimated that she was about thirty weeks in. The page was opened to the chapter describing what the baby would be like at this stage and how the mother should be feeling. He was concerned every day for Hermione's welfare. She'd looked so exhausted the last time he saw her. Kingsley Shacklebolt gave him the message that she was doing all right, but he wished desperately that he could see for himself.

After a quick perusal of the chapter, Antonin slammed the book shut. He had a long day ahead of him. Best to get his mind focused on other things. Focus on something he could control. But first, a hot shower.

* * *

"You will be careful, won't you?" Hermione whispered into Lucius' ear. Her arms were wrapped around his neck in a tight grip. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

Lucius tightened his arms around her back. He kissed her temple.

"I promise I will be careful, my love."

Ten minutes later Lucius was standing on the London pavement three blocks from the Ministry. The streets surrounding the entrance to the underground building were steadily filling up with allies. He couldn't be certain how many members were expected to be involved, but he knew the number was a staggeringly high number. British witches and wizards were getting tired of how their world had changed since the fall of the Chosen One almost two years earlier. Lucius knew that in addition to the people outside waiting to burst into the Ministry there were dozens, maybe even a few hundred inside waiting to lend a hand once the takeover began.

"Won't be much longer now," Arthur said to Lucius in a whisper. They'd arrived together and were waiting for the signal before entering the building at the same time.

"I am anxious to get this over with," Lucius replied. "I do not like leaving Hermione by herself for too long. She tends to get herself in trouble if left to her own devices for too long."

Arthur laughed quietly and clapped the younger man on the back. He couldn't deny his unlikely friend's remarks. Hermione did have a knack for finding herself in trouble at the worst times. He knew her friendship with his youngest son and Harry Potter was to blame. They were always getting themselves in sticky situations since they were eleven years old.

"I tried to dose her morning tea with a sleeping potion, but she caught on after a single sip," Lucius admitted.

"That was a bold move," laughed Arthur.

"She is not supposed to experience any undue stress in her condition. I thought she could get some much needed rest and not have to spend the day worrying about the outcome of this campaign. You know she is only going to wear herself out pacing up and down the lounge waiting for us to return safely."

Arthur certainly couldn't argue with the truth. Before he had the opportunity to reply, bright red, silent stars burst into the cloudy sky above them. The attack was beginning. Member of the Resistance began to enter the Out of Order toilets en masse. Minutes later hundreds of them flooded the large Atrium of the Ministry.

* * *

The summons came at exactly seven minutes after nine. Antonin somehow managed to doze a bit on his extremely uncomfortable sofa before the tingling and then the insistent burning of his Dark Mark indicated he was needed. If the summons was already coming seven minutes after the hour, then the Dark Lord's contacts within the Ministry had wasted no time in sounding the alarm. Likely it came straight from Albert Runcorn. The bastard was too afraid to get the Mark himself but he certainly wasn't shy about using those who had one for his own purposes when it suited him.

Once outside the front door of his cottage, Antonin placed the tip of his wand to his Dark Mark and Disapparated. His feet hit the pavement just outside the Senior Level Ministry Officials entrance. Other pops around him revealed over a hundred of his fellow cloaked and masked Death Eaters ready for another skirmish with the Resistance. His eyes carefully sought out the thirty or forty he knew would be changing sides once they were inside and in position. As de facto leader of the offshoot group, he could feel dozens of eyes seeking out his familiar and hopefully somewhat heartening figure.

"What's going on here?" he demanded of Nott who'd arrived before everyone else.

"Rebel arseholes have infiltrated the Ministry. We're to go in there and stop them." No one would ever accuse Theodore Nott, Senior of being an overly loquacious man. "The Dark Lord wants all of them taken care of quickly."

Antonin nodded his understanding before melting back into the crush of the assembled troops. Nott must have been designated the leader of their forces that day because as soon as the hidden doors to the Apparition chamber revealed themselves, he was ordering everyone inside. Once they passed through the doorways, Nott continued barking orders.

"Dolohov! Take ten men and head to Level One immediately! You all are to protect the Minister at all costs."

Antonin was thankful that his mask kept his smirk hidden. Unknowingly, Nott had just given him the best position to complete his purpose.

"The Minister has already adjusted the wards to allow anyone with a Dark Mark to Apparate wherever they wish within the building. Once inside, head to Level One."

Antonin took ten men he knew were either loyal to him or easy enough to turn once on the inside. A plan of action had already been decided upon with Shacklebolt and his fellow Death Eaters who'd been attending Resistance meetings with the former auror. Yaxley was already inside as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd already figured out which Aurors were sympathetic to the Resistance. He planned on rallying them once the Resistance arrived. Most of the rest of his department were administrative positions held by those who could easily be overtaken. They were going to be easy to control. Level Two should all but be secured before the Death eaters even entered the building if Yaxley had done his prep work completely.

Travers was to secure Level Three where the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was located. He'd already picked five or six to help. Mulciber would secure the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on Level Four. Rowle would take over Level Five, the Department of International Magical Cooperation. It was made up of mostly bureaucratic wizards who would likely want no part in any battle. Even a hothead like Thorfinn should be able to handle the assignment. Level Six, the Department of Magical Transportation and Level Seven, the Department of Magical Games and Sports already had wizards stationed on the inside. Shacklebolt didn't want any of the Death Eaters on Level Nine where the Department of Mysteries was located. Antonin couldn't blame him for his reluctance considering past activities in that department. Honestly, Antonin would be satisfied to never be forced to step foot back on that level again. Level Ten was made up of courtrooms that should be empty that morning. The Resistance would do what was needed to clear those out if necessary.

Antonin Apparated directly outside of the lavish office that housed the current Minister for Magic. The moment their feet touched the plush carpet in the corridor, Antonin and most of the ten Death Eaters he selected tapped the outside of their robes with their wands. To anyone not sporting a Dark Mark on their left forearm, their robes would appear as a light silver color to differentiate the "traitor" Death Eaters from the actual without making it too obvious at first to the "loyal" Death Eaters. It was a handy spell that Antonin had spent the last few weeks inventing and perfecting. He hadn't been the top Ravenclaw in his year for nothing.

The corridor was steadily filling up with Resistance members when Antonin made his arrival. All of the doors to the secure offices were closed and warded. Remembering that he had the ability to Apparate wherever he wished, Antonin turned quickly. Moments later he was inside the Minister's office. A terrified Pius Thicknesse was seated at this desk sweating profusely and knocking back a glass of fire whiskey. Antonin waved his hand in front of his face to remove his mask.

"Isn't it a little early in the morning for a drink, Minister?"

"Oh, Dolohov! Thank Merlin you're here," squeaked Thicknesse. "There's hundreds of them out there. I only _just_ made it inside my office before reinforcements arrived."

"The Dark Lord has sent us to secure the building."

Thicknesse released a loud sigh of relief. He offered an empty glass to Antonin who shook his head in response.

"Will it take much longer to sort everything out?" Thicknesse asked, his tone much calmer than before.

"No, Minister. It shouldn't take much longer."

Antonin turned towards the locked and warded door. With a silent incantation he shot a powerful _Reducto_ curse towards the corridor. A giant hole appeared in the wall and he heard the Minister gulp behind him as Resistance members began to enter the office.

"What were you thinking, man?" Thicknesse shouted.

Antonin rotated in his spot to smirk at the infuriated Minister. He'd always despised the man with his arrogance and pomposity. There had been debate on what the Minister's fate would be considering he had been under the Imperius Curse for years. Curse or not, Antonin wouldn't mourn his demise.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of the first to enter the office through the hole in the wall. The former auror gave Antonin a nod in his direction before crossing the large office to stand in front of the Minister. Thicknesse lifted his wand, but Shacklebolt lazily disarmed him.

"We are here to take you into custody, Pius," Kingsley announced.

Thicknesse began to sputter in indignation. His pleading eyes kept falling on Antonin who simply shrugged his shoulders. During Shacklebolt's attempt to restrain Thicknesse with a spell, the angry Russian from their last meeting came barreling through the hole in the wall. The wizard pushed Shacklebolt out of his way and aimed his wand at the terrified Minister.

"Katie Bell sends her regards," the man spat, fury practically burning out of his eyes.

At the mention of the name Antonin did not recognize, the Minister's entire countenance changed from fear to an almost wistful concern.

"Kitty?! Is she all right? I've been so worried about her."

"My _wife_ is safe, no thanks to you."

"And the child? Is my child safe too?"

Thicknesse was almost in tears as he asked after the woman and her child. Antonin could only assume whomever this Katie was she'd been a mistress of the Minister. He'd heard rumors about Pius enjoying his frequent visits to the Umbridge Home when it was open. If it was even possible, Antonin's regard for the Minister diminished further.

"You have no child!" the young man shouted. He made a slashing motion with his wand. Gashes appeared all over the Minister's face. " _My_ daughter will be safe from the likes of you."

Shacklebolt tried to push the Russian wizard out of the way of the desk, but it was no use. Righteous indignation and the desire to avenge the witch he loved won out in the end. The Minister was openly weeping, his wounds ignored.

"I love her!" Thicknesse shouted. "I was going to get her out of there!"

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

The Minister fell dead instantly. Antonin was certain no one would mourn his loss. He stood by to watch as Shacklebolt cast an _Incarcerous_ spell over the distraught young man. Antonin's respect for the now sobbing young wizard increased one hundred fold. To avenge the wrongs committed against the witch you love is an admirable act.

* * *

Lucius was certain that Level Five was the most boring level of the entire Ministry. Kingsley thought it best that he not be present in the same areas of the building that Dolohov or Yaxley were in. Smart move on the younger wizard's part. He would like to say unequivocally that he possessed enough self-control to not act out past grudges in the heat of the raid, but he was only human after all. A stray hex might make contact with the other two wizards whether Lucius meant to or not.

The most excitement Lucius personally experienced came only in the short period of time it took from him to get from the Atrium to Level Five via the emergency staircase. As with any other kind of emergency, the lifts between the levels were shut down almost immediately the moment the first wave of Resistance fighters entered. Lucius was part of either the fifth or sixth wave into the Ministry. By the time the charming toilet regurgitated his form into the Atrium, the fighting was well under way. Death Eaters and Ministry personnel alike were lying all over the cold marble floors in varying degrees of unconsciousness.

Arthur had been right by Lucius' side from the very beginning. He'd rallied their group to the emergency staircase hidden behind the Welcome Desk. Most of the so-called rebels, like Lucius, had never been inside of the Ministry without using one of the lifts. Arthur's knowledge as a former Ministry worker was invaluable.

Red bursts of active _stupefy_ curses greeted the Resistance when the doors were flung open to the stairs. Several terrified Ministry workers had attempted to barricade themselves inside the relative safety of the hidden space. One curse flew by Lucius' ear narrowly missing its target. He responded in kind and the elderly wizard fell to the ground stunned. No one in his group was harmed in any way. Once the Resistance members began to fling curses at the workers, several threw their wands down onto the ground and thrust their hands in the air. Their lives were more important to them than who ran the Ministry.

They met more clusters of Ministry personnel the further they ran down the stairs. At each level there were more waiting to attempt to stun or injure the rebels. They were becoming bolder the further down into the bowels of the Ministry that they ran. Lucius heard the curses hurled in their direction become increasingly more violent and Dark. A few of the Resistance members behind him started to get hit with the curses once they made it to Level Three. Worried for a moment, he whipped his head around to make certain that Arthur was still beside him. The older wizard gave him a shaky smile before he turned back around to keep his eyes on the stairs.

He'd been expecting more opposition from those already inside the Ministry. Obviously he was unaware of the numbers of personnel who were just as anxious as he to return the world to what it was before the war. Lucius, Arthur and their group continued to run down the stairs without ceasing. He was an experienced enough duelist to send curses and hexes in the direction of any opposing forces without even slowing his pace. There was something about a fierce fight that got his adrenaline flowing. He almost loved the heat of battle. When he was fighting for his life at the Battle of Azkaban he had rarely been so impassioned.

Thorfinn Rowle greeted him in the main corridor of Level Five when Lucius burst through the door to the staircase.

"Good morning, Lucius. It's been a long time," Rowle chuckled.

"Thorfinn." Lucius nodded in his direction. He had never really had anything against the young man. As a relatively new Death Eater, Rowle was simply beneath his notice during his days of following the Dark Lord. "Do you have everything secure on this Level?"

"Yes, we do. It wasn't hard. There weren't any fighters in this department."

Rowle gestured towards the corridor behind them. Witches and wizards numbering close to fifty were lined up along the walls bound with rope and gagged. Several of them were crying. Some were bleeding. A few were unconscious.

"Should we continue on to the next level then, Lucius?" Arthur inquired softly enough that he assumed the oversized, blonde Death Eater couldn't hear their conversation.

"No," Thorfinn answered on Lucius' behalf. "You should remain here until we receive further orders. Keep an eye on the captives. Make certain they don't escape."

Lucius couldn't explain why, but the unnerving way that Rowle was leering at him made his skin crawl. The tall, imposing wizard looked as if he had a secret that he wanted to share. His eyes never strayed far from Lucius' figure. It was very unsettling.

* * *

Antonin stalked through Level One surveying the damage. All of the Senior Ministry personnel were either dead or incapacitated. Kingsley had already assigned Resistance members to round up the officials for incarceration in the holding cells in the rarely used Level Eleven. Everything seemed secure on the uppermost level of the Ministry. There were surprisingly few casualties amongst the Resistance. Just as he had been the night of the battle at Azkaban, Antonin was highly impressed by the level of organization employed by the leaders of the Resistance. Every possible contingency, including the possibility that Antonin and his Death Eaters were planning to betray them, had been considered and planned.

He walked the corridors of the Level to see who all had been injured and killed. An estimated seventeen Death Eaters lay dead on the plush carpet. With the addition of the Minister and his Senior Undersecretary, there were over twenty-five fatalities amongst the Ministry staff on that level alone. Only five Resistance members were dead. It was a commentary on how prepared the Resistance was and how complacent the Ministry had become under Thicknesse's leadership. When he was certain that Level One was secure, he headed down the stairs to Level Two.

Hostilities were all but over in Yaxley's department as well. He had been able to find a surprising number of Aurors who were nostalgic for the days pre-Dark Lord. They had battled fiercely on this level. There were over three times the number of casualties as there had been just one level above. A row of snarling, bound Death Eaters tried to kick at him as he passed by them. Antonin was pleased to find Nott amongst the captured. He granted the elderly Death Eater a warm, sarcastic smile before moving on.

"What are your plans with these?" Antonin demanded of Yaxley. He gestured his head towards the line of the Death Eaters.

"They'll stay up here for now," answered Yaxley. "Once the rest of the building is secure we will move them down to Level Eleven to await their trial or execution or whatever these fucking bleeding heart rebels want to do with them."

Yaxley had been the hardest of his leaders to convince to join him. Even though the fearsome Head of the DMLE was still reeling from the unconscionable torture and murder of his young daughter less than a year earlier, he understood enough of the Dark Lord's fury to not want to immediately betray him. It had taken Antonin days of convincing to finally get a solid commitment from the man. He was still worried about his wife and their remaining daughter. As long as he was in the service of the Dark Lord, they were at risk. Antonin promised him that he would get the remaining members of his family smuggled out of the country if he would join his ranks. The moment his wife and daughter were outside of the borders of the United Kingdom, Yaxley agreed.

"Heard any more about what's going on below us?" Antonin asked.

"No, but it's gotten quieter. Fight's probably moved on."

Antonin nodded curtly in Yaxley's direction before returning to the staircase that Lucius had run down earlier in the morning. At each landing of the staircase, Antonin placed at least three of his Death Eaters for security. At Level Three he was advised to keep going down. Nothing of any interest was happening there. Travers had everything under control. The same was true at Level Four, so Antonin continued.

The moment he pushed the door to Level Five open, Antonin's wand hand began to itch. He could see the unmistakable form of Lucius Malfoy standing in deep conversation with the Weasley patriarch. Not for the first time he wondered what Hermione's feelings might be about their future if Lucius were no longer in the picture. He could tell in those three months alone with her that she only needed a little prodding in the right direction to make her his. With no threat of Lucius swooping in and carrying her off, Antonin was certain that he could be guaranteed a happy future with his witch and his son by his side.

He shook his head to banish any further thoughts from his mind. As an intelligent wizard, he knew that if Lucius was dead by his hands, Hermione would never forgive him. Even knowing those facts, it didn't make him want the blond wizard dead any less. Antonin crossed the room to where he could see Rowle standing just a few feet from the other men.

"Everything secure?" he asked Rowle, ignoring the glares coming from Lucius' direction.

"So far," Rowle responded with a laugh.

Antonin didn't care for Rowle. They used to be partners in the early stages of the war and as time had worn on, they grew to annoy each other. Part of his dislike for the younger wizard was the comments he liked to make about Hermione following her modification of their memories after their failed attack in London. Antonin knew that given half a chance, Thorfinn would take his revenge out on Hermione in a cruel manner. He'd once had to suffer the pain and indignation of the Cruciatus Curse because of her actions. His thirst for vengeance was still strong.

"The Minister is dead," Antonin announced to the assembled group.

"Glad to hear it," Lucius replied. "He was a disgusting man. What happened?"

"The angry Russian man from the meeting killed him in retribution it seems. Pius used to visit his wife in the Umbridge Home."

Lucius sneered at the knowledge. He remembered the night that Rabastan forced him to visit the prison. Pius was there. He'd seen the poor woman he was visiting for only a moment. The world was a better place without filth like him in power.

"I'm going down to the next level," Antonin announced. He didn't want to be near Lucius any longer than he had to.

"Before you go, Antonin, I wanted to show you something," said Thorfinn.

Antonin stopped his footsteps immediately. There was something in Thorfinn's tone that unnerved him. Rowle held his wand firmly in his right hand and used his left to pull something out of his pocket. All eyes of the other three wizards were fixated on Rowle. It took them all a moment to realize what Rowle held in his hand.

"What is that?" Lucius asked.

Rowle laughed. He pointed his wand at what appeared to be an old butterbeer bottle.

" _Priori portus_."

The butterbeer bottle began to glow blue. Antonin realized at the last second what Rowle was holding. He tried to close the distance between them, but it was no use. With a spiteful smirk on his face, Rowle disappeared from their view.

* * *

Shell Cottage was eerily quiet. Hermione was rarely left completely alone in the Resistance safe house. Considering the number of Resistance traveling from all over the country to attack the Ministry, she had not been alone in the house for weeks. There was always someone else moving through the house. As the only person unable to participate in the raid, Hermione was stuck home. She was no longer as bothered by that fact as she had been only weeks earlier. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that she felt just about every single moment of the day. It's hard for someone to want to fight a battle when they can hardly keep their eyes open.

By eleven that morning she was asleep on the sofa. She had been angry with Lucius for trying to drug her morning tea, but she couldn't exactly blame him for his concern. Her pacing of the downstairs and her need to tidy up all of the rooms wore her out quickly. She only lay down on the sofa with the purpose of resting her eyes for a short time. It had never been her intention to fall asleep.

Large hands shook her awake. It took her several moments for her eyes to adjust once she was awake. A rough, calloused hand brushed her cheek.

"Good morning, Princess." Rowle leaned down close enough to her face that his hot breath tickled her cheeks. "Remember me?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. Other than at the Resistance meeting three weeks earlier, she hadn't seen this man since the Battle of Hogwarts. Before that, she hadn't seen him since she modified his memory at the same time she modified Antonin's. The glint in his eye was terrifying. He was a very dangerous wizard and with a quick look at the rest of the room, she knew she was alone.

"I've never forgotten you," he said before she had a chance to speak. "I'm here to take you to someone who is dying to meet you."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Staring up into Thorfinn Rowle's cold, blue eyes made Hermione very dizzy. She wasn't sure if it was shock or if she was still partially asleep, but everything around her felt so surreal. How was it possible that she woke up from a nap in the safe house to find a Death Eater with a serious grudge against her leering down at her? The feral grin on his face made her skin crawl.

"What's going on?" she asked in a timid tone of voice. She still wasn't a hundred percent sure that she wasn't dreaming.

"Well, Princess," Rowle began. "I've been sent on a very important mission to retrieve you."

"Me? Why?"

"You ask too many questions."

He placed a strong arm under her knees and another around her waist. Despite being heavy with child, the gargantuan wizard lifted her with ease. He crossed the span of the downstairs in no time at all. Apparition wasn't allowed inside of the cottage due to strong protection wards around the property. Rowle aimed his wand at the front door and blasted the ornately carved piece of wood off of its hinges. His wand remained in the hand still clinging to Hermione's back. She wanted to struggle against his movement, but sheer exhaustion and fear of hurting her baby kept her still. In her mind she reasoned with herself that if this man truly wanted her dead, he would have killed her already.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded the moment the cool breeze blowing off the ocean struck her.

"Gods, you're annoying." He refused to say anything else.

"What do you want with me?" Her shrill tone began to rise higher the more frightened she became.

Rowle was not a man easily swayed by the emotional ravings of women. Several of his ex-girlfriends had learned that lesson the hard way. Only one woman's emotional pleas and cries ever touched his heart and his younger sister had been missing for months. He resolutely ignored Hermione's repeated inquiries. When he felt he was far enough from the house, he rotated in place and they both felt the unnerving squeeze of Apparition.

Hermione silently prayed to whatever deities might exist for assistance in getting her out of one more dangerous situation. Could she never catch a break? Why was she always in danger of being kidnapped by dangerous men? It was all she could do to keep from completely breaking down in the arms still gently, but firmly carrying her fatigued form.

"Have you suddenly lost interest in where I'm taking you, Princess?"

She hated when anyone called her that. It was always so mocking, especially Rowle. He had been an almost constant torment in her first year at Hogwarts.

"Does it really matter?" she replied keeping her eyes shut firmly to keep the nausea she was experiencing due to the Apparition at bay.

Rowle carefully set her feet on the ground. He kept a firm hold on her when her ungainly body began to sway. She was at the stage of her pregnancy where she was clumsy and often lost her balance. Hermione stood still for a moment with her eyes closed tightly until the spinning of the world around her began to lessen.

"Welcome back, Princess," Rowle teased. "I know it's been a long time since you've been here."

Hermione lifted her eyes from the ground to take in the surroundings. Immediately she felt the threat of tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes. She was standing in the very spot she must have stood in countless times in the past. The large, ornate gates to Hogwarts castle loomed just a few meters ahead of her. In the distance she could see the school she loved so dearly. She hadn't stood that close to that building for almost two solid years. Six hundred and eighty nine days to be exact.

"You have an appointment with the Dark Lord," Rowle said with a laugh. "He's been anxious to meet you."

"Why?"

"Why what, Princess?"

"Why are you betraying the others? I thought you were on our side now."

Rowle pulled his left sleeve up his arm. He shoved his Dark Mark underneath Hermione's nose.

" _This_ is why my loyalties lie," he spat. "I am loyal to the Dark Lord."

"Why lie to Antonin and the others then?"

Rowle laughed once more. Hermione hated the sound. He made her skin tingle with disgust, almost as if her own skin wanted to peel itself off at the noise.

"You must've really done a number on Dolohov. He was the last of us I ever expected to be a traitor."

Hermione wasn't sure if a response was required and if it was, she didn't know what to say. Rowle's implications of her influence over Antonin made her uneasy. The way his cold blue eyes raked over her entire body and settled on her swelling belly made her sick to her stomach. She could only imagine what was going through his thick head. No doubt he was thinking something unspeakable.

"I remember you when you were an ickle firstie," he said. He'd been the largest seventh year in the school at the time. All of the older students in her House warned them to stay away from the cruel Slytherin boy. "Can't exactly say I'm surprised to find a Gryffin-whore like yourself up the duff. If you had a thing for Death Eaters, Princess, I've always been available."

He finished his disgusting remarks with a wink. Hermione wished she had her wand on her to hex his eyes out of his skull, but she'd left it back in Shell Cottage. She should've learned her lesson about not keeping her wand on her at all times. No matter now. Rowle would've only taken it from her if she tried to use it. Considering how clumsy and dizzy she'd been lately, he would've been able to disarm her with little effort.

"I would rather die," she said glaring back at him.

Rowle tightened his grip on her upper arm and leaned down dangerously close to her face.

"That could be arranged."

She tried to shrug her arm out of his grasp but there was no use. Even if she were at her best form, he was entirely too strong. When he witnessed her feeble attempt to escape, his anger seemed to melt away from his laughing face. She obviously amused him greatly.

"Of course, word is that you only let the old men in your bed."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He thought she was funny.

"Maybe you should let someone a bit closer to your own age show you what to do."

Rowle ran his free hand through her hair. At the base of her neck, he grabbed a fistful of her curls and pulled hard enough that her eyes filled up with tears. He released his grip on her hair to brush his rough hand against her soft cheek. When his hand reached her chin he used his forefinger to tap the end of her nose.

"Come on, Princess. We're expected inside."

The gates opened for them almost as if on cue. Rowle retained his grip on her arm to lead her back onto the grounds of her beloved school. He kept his pace easy for which she was reluctantly thankful. The further along her pregnancy became, the harder time she had of it walking any amount of distance. In the last few weeks she'd even given up the long walks along the cold and windy shore that she'd grown to love so much.

"I'd heard rumors about you and Dolohov," Rowle continued. "When he asked the Dark Lord for you I assumed he wanted to make you pay for what you did to us in that café. Honestly I was a bit jealous that he thought of asking for you first. I'm certain I would've enjoyed it."

His free hand brushed against Hermione's bum and she cringed. Would she ever be able to be around men who _didn't_ want to rape her? She was getting really, really sick of all of the threats and innuendos. Unfortunately Antonin wasn't there at that moment to slice through Thorfinn Rowle's beefy neck.

"You could've knocked me over with a feather when I saw you come strutting into the room during the meeting. One look at you and then one glance at the expression on Dolohov's face answered all of my questions. Does he think that if he helps overthrow the Dark Lord that the three of you can be one little, happy family?"

Rowle laughed at his own feeble joke. Hermione fantasized about Lucius _and_ Antonin showing up at that exact moment to obliterate the idiot from the world. A satisfied smirk crossed her mouth for just a moment at the thought of him thrashing his huge body on the ground begging for mercy. Yes, she would enjoy that very much.

"I nicked the portkey when he wasn't looking," Rowle continued. "His mind was obviously elsewhere at the time. Since your little hideout is so well protected, I had to make certain I got a portkey created by the Secret Keeper. Easy enough to do when Dolohov was too busy mooning over you to realize what I was doing."

Rowle was obviously very proud of what he had done. The way he kept talking about his "evil plan" reminded Hermione strongly of about a dozen different Muggle movies where the bad guy captures the good and then proceeds to explain in great detail his dastardly plan. Hermione could only hope that the big, burly imbecile would be so proud of his accomplishments that he would let some important, secret information slip. She listened patiently certain that Rowle was just dumb enough to do so.

"You should have seen the look on Dolohov's face when he realized what I'd done!" Rowle chuckled. "Absolutely bloody priceless. And Big Malfoy too."

Hermione's feet stopped moving at the mention of Lucius. They were both there together when Rowle showed his duplicity? The tiniest bloom of hope began to take root inside of her. If both of them knew or even at least just _suspected_ that she was in danger, they wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took within their power to find her. Even as the school grew larger in front of her, she couldn't stop the smile on her weary face. There was hope for her after all.

"So tell me, Princess. You actually know who the father is or are you just letting them both think they are to suit your own purposes?"

"That's none of your business, Rowle!"

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Just curious. Looks like everyone concerned will find out the truth soon anyway."

They walked in silence for several minutes for which Hermione was grateful. Rowle's voice was getting on her nerves. She used the lull in the conversation to take in her surroundings. Hogwarts looked deceptively like it always had before. Even though she knew that Darkest wizard the world had ever known was inside the castle, nothing seemed to have changed since the last time she was there. All traces of the final battle where her two best friends were killed were gone. Even the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. The rest of Creation didn't seem to understand that the world was wrong.

"The Dark Lord made sure that the castle was restored to its former glory immediately after his victory," Rowle explained almost as if he could hear Hermione's thoughts. "The inside looks as it always did before. The only change he's really made to the school is there are no more individual Houses."

That knowledge surprised Hermione greatly. Houses had been a fundamental part of their school since its founding over a thousand years before. It was how students and former students alike identified themselves. To hear that Lord Voldemort had completely done away with Houses was shocking to say the least.

"Students are grouped only by their years. It's supposed to crack down on inter House rivalries."

"Professor Dumbledore used to say that he always thought we were Sorted too soon."

"Well, I'm certainly glad we had Houses when I was in school. If I'd had to spend any more time with you Gryffindor lot, I'd have gone mad."

By then their feet had carried them across the expansive grounds to the ornate door to the Entrance Hall. Hermione struggled to catch her breath and desperately wanted to lie down. She was unused to such a level of physical exertion. Rowle pushed the grand door open and pulled her inside. She took a moment to lean up against a stone pillar in an effort to breathe normally. Rowle released his hold on her arm. He stared at her while she tried to still her panting.

"Looks like you need to get more exercise," he teased. "You're getting fat, Princess."

"Shut up! And quit calling me that."

He simply laughed at her outburst before taking her arm once more in a much looser hold than before.

"Can you walk a little bit further or would you like me to carry you again?"

"I would rather walk. I don't want your hands all over me again."

"How disappointing."

He led her up the grand staircase. It took them a long time to arrive at their destination because of the slow pace Hermione required and the frequent stops they made for her to rest. She knew she was going to need to lie down very soon. Her reserves of energy were almost completely depleted. When they arrived at the gargoyle guarding the hidden staircase to the Headmaster's office, she felt her mouth grow dry and her heartbeat increase. She was so unnerved that she didn't even hear Rowle give the password and she stared at the reappearing staircase in awe.

"Either you can follow me up the stairs on your own or you can suffer my hands all over your body again."

Hermione didn't need to be warned twice. She followed behind Rowle slowly, but determinedly. He actually chose those moments to keep his mouth shut which surprised her. Indeed the only sound she could really hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Too quickly they were at the top of the stairs.

The door to the Headmaster's office jerked open before Rowle could even raise his hand to knock. Another fearsome Death Eater that Hermione could've happily gone the rest of her life without seeing again greeted her with an acerbic grin that made her stomach churn. If necessary, she promised herself that she wouldn't even try to prevent throwing up all over Walden Macnair's disheveled robes. He was the wizard who eventually was able to kill Hagrid. She would never forgive him for his cruelty.

"Welcome, Miss Granger," Macnair said with a sneer plastered across his grizzled, wrinkled face. "We've been expecting you."

Macnair stepped back from the door to allow her entrance into the office. She mustered all of her self-control to not gasp and recoil in horror from the scene within. While the room itself was almost exactly how Professor Dumbledore left it before his death, she couldn't escape from the violent despair and fear she felt emanating from every corner of the space. This was a place that had known great pain and even death. Magic always left its mark behind and this office was no exception. Hermione wondered if she were about to become yet another victim.

Lord Voldemort was seated behind the massive desk that Professor Dumbledore used to sit behind. The similarities and the stark differences between the two wizards were astounding. Hermione felt her stomach slowly begin inching its way up to her throat as she continued her blatant examination of He Who Must Not Be Named. The changes in his figure since the day he murdered her best friend were unreal. He was a weakened copy of his former self. The previous six hundred and eighty nine days had not been kind to the Dark Lord.

His already pale skin was like paper. She could actually see his veins and blood moving just below the surface. His eyes were lined with black circles as if he had not slept in years. Did he even require sleep now that he was hardly human? She couldn't be certain. Lord Voldemort was staring at her just as intently as she was at him. His red eyes raked over her entire form in much the same manner that Rowle's and Macnair's had. Only from him she definitely couldn't sense the undisguised lust that the other two didn't even try to hide. She was simply an oddity to him, not an object to be leered at and salivated over.

His eyes drew her closer. She couldn't explain if it was a spell or the same form of hypnosis that some dangerous serpents used in the wild to subdue their prey. Her feet crossed the expanse of the office of their own accord. She was around the back of the desk and only a foot from the being that had haunted her nightmares for almost ten years before she was even aware she was moving.

"Hermione Granger," he said, his voice hardly more than a hiss. "We meet at least."

The almost trance like state she was in ended abruptly. She was startled when she realized how close she was standing to Voldemort. With a quick glance around the room she saw there were more people in there than she initially thought. Her eyes had been so focused on the wizard behind the desk that she didn't even notice the other dozen or so living the walls. Not a single friendly face amongst them. Hermione was certain she'd seen several of them before as she dodged their hexes and curses.

 _So this is the Inner Circle_? She thought. _I assumed they'd be more impressive._

"You have been an elusive witch to find."

She didn't know what to say to the monster that was responsible for all of the death and destruction that their world had experienced in the past thirty years or so. For once she didn't have any witty or piercing retorts. If she thought Rowle unnerved her earlier, that was _nothing_ compared to how she felt at that moment. Even with the trance ended she felt like a helpless doe stuck in the bright headlights of a speeding automobile.

"I understand that your rebels experienced a great victory today," Voldemort announced.

She couldn't hide her surprise at his words. Part of her was shocked to learn the Ministry takeover was successful. Once she was trapped in Rowle's clutches, she'd simply assumed that all of the Resistance's hard work had been for nothing. To keep herself from breaking down completely, she hadn't even allowed herself to consider that she lost even more loved ones that day.

"Oh, but based on your expression it appears you did not know that," he continued. "Thorfinn?"

Rowle crossed the office and knelt in front of Voldemort inches from where Hermione was standing.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Did you not provide Miss Granger with any details of the rebel victory this morning?"

"No, my lord. I did not."

"Look at me."

Rowle lifted his gaze to meet his Dark Lord's eyes. It was obvious that he was using Legilimency to see inside Rowle's thoughts. Hermione couldn't suppress a shudder imagining the assault of her mind that such magic would cause. After a few brief seconds, Voldemort began laughing a weak, rasping laugh that hurt Hermione's ears. No doubt the others in the room were feeling the same way. They'd simply had more practice in not allowing the cackles to upset them.

"It appears that young Thorfinn's mind was focused on rather more carnal matters when he abducted Miss Granger from the rebel safe house."

The Dark wizards around the room joined in the laughter. Even Rowle couldn't hide his smirk when Hermione caught his eye. She didn't have to wonder what Voldemort saw inside his deviant mind. He'd already let his feelings on the matter be known in their trek up to the castle. She hated how exposed she felt with everyone staring at her, laughing at how uneasy she was.

"Perhaps you should give a report of your activities at the Ministry to put the lovely Miss Granger's mind at ease, Thorfinn."

Rowle rose from his kneeling position on the floor at Lord Voldemort's gesture to rise.

"The Ministry was rather easy to take over, I'm afraid, my lord," he explained. "The high numbers of traitors inside was a great deal more than our first estimates. Once Dolohov failed in protecting the Minister, the rebels were able to sweep in to all levels and departments. There were more traitors amongst us than we were aware, my lord. A high number quickly joined forces with Dolohov once inside."

Hermione tried to keep her expressions of joy off of her face. She had been worried for weeks that they would fail when attempting to retake the Ministry. Knowing that not only had they been successful, but that Antonin proved his loyalty to the Resistance warmed her heart.

"Antonin's treachery is hard to stomach," Voldemort replied. "Once one of my most loyal servants, I can only imagine what tempted him to betray me."

His serpentine eyes flicked over to Hermione and her swelling belly. He examined her once more before turning his attention back to Rowle.

"When the building was secured by the rebels I remained on the fifth level to wait for Dolohov to arrive. While I was waiting, Lucius Malfoy showed up with Arthur Weasley."

The sound of Lucius and Arthur's names perked up her spirits tremendously. Unless Rowle was about to follow his last statement with "and then I murdered them all!", it sounded like the most important members of the Resistance to Hermione survived.

"Dolohov arrived a few minutes later to report that the other levels were secure," Rowle continued. "He remained just a short time to speak to us all before he excused himself to continue on. I stopped him before he got too far away.

"He saw me take the old portkey we'd used before to get to the rebel safe house out of my pocket, but he didn't seem to understand what it was until I cast the _priori portus_ charm on it. Thank you, my lord, for teaching me the spell to reactivate old portkeys.

"It took me directly to the same house where we met for the meeting I discussed with you three weeks ago. Dolohov tried to stop me, but he was too slow. They all watched me disappear before I reappeared just inches from Miss Granger's sleeping form."

Knowing that Antonin, Lucius and Arthur were all present to witness Rowle's treachery gave Hermione even more hope that her situation was not completely lost. They knew she was gone by now. Of that she had zero doubts. The moment Antonin understood that Rowle had the old portkey he knew what Rowle's plan was. She didn't doubt that already a plan of action was being drawn up on how to rescue her. She even somehow knew that Antonin and Lucius would be willing to work on saving her together. She knew that they both cared enough about her to put their differences aside long enough to find her.

"Thank you, Thorfinn. You have proven your loyalty to me repeatedly over the past month."

Rowle knelt before Lord Voldemort once more. He crawled towards his master to kiss the hem of his robes. Hermione struggled to keep herself from kicking the blond man as hard as she could as he slithered past. His act of obeisance disgusted her. When she thought how her Lucius and Antonin must have done this very same act countless times in the past, she felt sickened. Voldemort placed his hand on Rowle's head.

"You will be rewarded."

"Thank you, my lord."

Rowle rose from the floor and stepped backwards away from Voldemort. He was just centimeters behind Hermione. She could feel his looming presence over her and it made her exceptionally nervous.

"Thorfinn gave you good news, Miss Granger. _Both_ of your lovers are safe. Does that not make you happy?"

She couldn't resist glaring at the evil wizard ahead. It only took a moment of her guard being down while making eye contact for him to begin his mental assault. She could actually _feel_ him inside her head, moving around and viewing her most private thoughts and memories. Physical rape couldn't be worse than the sensations of him filling and violating her head. Flashes of memories came to the forefront of her mind too quickly to even make any sense at all of what she seeing.

She was a child at Christmas. She was learning she was a witch. She was fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was punching Draco. She was crying after the Yule Ball. She was kissing Antonin. She was being attacked by dementors. She was brewing polyjuice potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Lucius was ripping the purple dress off of her body. Rabastan was kissing her neck. Rowle was leering down at her lying on the sofa. Ron was leaning in for their first kiss. Harry was hugging her.

The onslaught of the memories and emotions left her breathless. When she felt him finally exit her mind, her knees gave out. Rowle caught her before she fell crashing to the ground. He kept his hands on her shoulders to steady her shaking form. Even though she wanted to shrug his hands off of her body, she didn't have the strength to even attempt to do so. Her exhaustion was worse than it had ever been before.

"You have a fascinating mind, Miss Granger. I admit that I would enjoy a much more thorough perusal of it at a later time."

Imagining repeating the same process again in more intensity scared Hermione more than she could contemplate. She was afraid she would go mad at another intrusion. Losing her mind was her greatest fear.

"I must admit that there is a mystery about you I would like to solve."

With a simple gesture of his hand, Rowle pushed Hermione forward. Standing so close to the Dark Lord made his altered state even more apparent. She expected him to smell like death or rotting flesh, but the complete lack of any smell at all to him was even more unsettling. He was much weaker than he had been the day he killed Harry. Whether it was a side effect of all of his horcruxes being destroyed or if it was because of the weakening potion Tildie had been slipping in his daily unicorn blood potion was unclear. It didn't seem to matter however. What was obvious to Hermione was that the dark wizard terrified of death was rapidly dying before their very eyes.

"I am very curious about this baby you are carrying."

Without any warning, Voldemort placed both of his pale, bony hands on her belly. Immediately she felt her child begin to frantically squirm around inside of her. The sensations his hands were creating inside her body terrified her to her very core. Fears for her unborn child began to escalate. Moments that felt like hours passed before he removed his hands from her person.

"He has your nose," Lord Voldemort announced. "But the rest of him looks just like his father."

Hermione's sudden interest in his words did not go unnoticed by the wizard.

"Ahh, but even you are not positive yet who that is, are you?"

He dropped her eyes to the ground when the room began to fill with the amused snickers of everyone around her. Rowle's laughter was louder than everyone else's.

"I know which wizard you hope it is, but I am afraid I must give you some bad news, Miss Granger. When your son grows up, he will be almost an exact copy of Antonin."

Hermione wasn't surprised by his admission. She tried to tell herself that there was no way he could possibly know the truth simply by touching her stomach, but she couldn't deny the fact that she'd suspected from the very beginning that she was carrying Antonin's child. Even if he hadn't made such a big deal out of the fact that he could sense her baby at New Years, she'd known.

"Since Miss Granger has such a soft spot for traitors, please take her down to the worst of them all's quarters, Thorfinn. She will enjoy her stay in his old rooms. No one else will take them after all."

Rowle bowed to the Dark Lord once more before taking Hermione's arm in his grasp once more. They were almost to the door of the office when Walden Macnair stopped them.

"My lord, I wonder if I might beg a favor of you," Macnair said. All eyes fell on him in surprise.

"You may beg, Walden. I may or may not allow it," Voldemort replied.

"I wonder if I may take the Mudblood into the Forbidden Forest with me the next time I need to hunt."

Hermione's blood ran cold. She didn't want to be _anywhere_ alone with the executioner. Certainly not the Forbidden Forest of all places!

"An interesting request, Walden. May I ask why?"

"Pregnant witches attract unicorns, my lord. They will seek her out instead of running from me as they usually do."

Voldemort seemed to consider the request for a minute or so.

"All right. I will allow it as long as you can promise me that Miss Granger will return from the forest in one piece. She is the bait I require to capture a couple of traitors."

"Of course, my lord." He bowed in Voldemort's direction before turning his sneer on Hermione. "I will make certain she returns in one piece."

His eyes conveyed a great deal of promises to Hermione that she didn't want to hear uttered aloud. She tried to swallow, but found her throat wasn't cooperating. Rowle tugged on her arm to keep moving.

"Oh, and Thorfinn," Voldemort called after them. Rowle stopped once more to acknowledge his master with another bow. "Do be careful with the woman. I do not care what you do to her personally, but do not harm the child. He may have trash for a mother and a traitor for a father, but I can sense real power from him. He will be a powerful wizard and I would like to keep him."

"Yes, my lord."

The corners of Rowle's mouth twitched up into a smile when he turned back to Hermione. His eyes spoke just as many promises as Macnair's. Rowle led her back down to the Entrance Hall. Students of all ages stopped to stare and point in her direction. It wasn't every day that they got to see an Undesirable. Several acted as if they wanted to throw things at her or hex her, but one glare from Thorfinn Rowle sent them all running.

"Miss Granger?!"

A familiar and very welcome voice reached Hermione's ears at the entrance to the dungeons. She turned around to see a harried Professor McGonagall running across the Entrance Hall at full speed. For her advanced age, she was surprisingly agile. Her arms wrapped around Hermione's bulky form despite Rowle's repeated requests to get away. Both women were in tears in only seconds.

"What are you doing here, my girl?" she whispered.

"What the bloody hell do you think she's doing here, McGonagall?" roared Rowle. "She's the Dark Lord's prisoner."

"I'm afraid he's right," Hermione replied.

"Not to worry, McGonagall. She's under the Dark Lord's protection. He won't let anything nasty happen to her. He's expecting her to lure Lucius Malfoy here and also lure the father of her bastard here too."

Professor McGonagall stepped back from Hermione to take a closer look at her former student. She'd not even noticed how large Hermione had gotten in the excitement of seeing her again. Her face couldn't hide the surprise and fear that increased on realizing her condition.

"The father?" she asked without even really meaning to.

Rowle laughed once more.

"Your little Gryffindor princess got herself in the pudding club by the big, bad, scary murderer Antonin Dolohov."

He howled further when he saw the shock on McGonagall's face deepen.

"Is that true, Miss Granger?"

Rowle responded before Hermione could even form a single word.

"The Dark Lord just confirmed it. Don't look so worried about her, Professor. She was more than willing to spread her legs for Dolohov. He didn't rape her."

Hot tears of humiliation began to drip off of Hermione's closed eyelashes. Minerva McGonagall wrapped her arms back around the distraught young woman to provide whatever comfort she could. Hermione welcomed the embrace from the historically cold woman. Rowle allowed the hug to continue for a couple of minutes before breaking them apart.

"Come on. I'm taking her to Snape's old quarters," he explained. "No one else wants to sleep there. I suspect it's haunted by the traitorous bastard."

"I will ask Madam Pomfrey to come by to check on you later," McGonagall called after them when they were already hallway down the stairs to the dungeons.

He led her down the familiar corridor that led to her old potions classroom. Professor Snape kept his old quarters in the dungeons even during his brief stint as Headmaster. Hermione was expecting a cold, dank room reminiscent of his old classroom, but at that moment she would've been willing to crawl on top of a pile of dead animal bones in the Chamber of Secrets she was so exhausted. Rowle pushed open the hidden door to the private quarters of her former professor and gently nudged her inside. A warm fire was already roaring in the oversized fireplace. The rooms definitely held a sense of its former occupant, but they were surprisingly comfortable and inviting. She eyed the large, fluffy four poster bed covered in pillows with envy. Obviously reports of Professor Snape sleeping in a coffin were false.

"Will these meet your satisfaction, Princess?" Rowle sneered.

"Yes, thank you," she spat back. "They will do just fine."

She crossed the space to the large bed and would've crawled up onto it already if she didn't have company. Rowle was one step behind her the entire way. Hermione started to turn back around to demand that he leave. Rowle's hands were around her waist and she was lying with her back on the bed before she could even speak. Fearing for her safety, she tried to kick out at his massive frame, but she was too weak. All of the walking made her legs almost useless. The softness of the mattress prevented her from being able to move around much. Rowle stood between her legs and grinned the same feral grin she'd woken up to earlier that morning.

"There's no reason to struggle, Princess. You may even enjoy this. I've been told in the past that I'm quite good."

His hands attached themselves to the sides of her legs and he slowly rubbed up to her thighs. Her heart was racing. She could barely breathe. Suddenly Voldemort's mental rape of her didn't seem so bad now that she was faced with the real thing.

"Get your hands off of me!" she screamed.

He simply laughed. His thumbs caught the waistband of her knickers. He began to move them down her legs in a torturously slow manner as if he had all of the time in the world. Hermione began to panic.

"What are you so upset for, Princes?" he teased as he pulled her knickers off completely. "I thought by now you were more than comfortable with a Death Eater between your legs?"

She snapped her knees together. Rowle continued his laughter before placing two strong, calloused hands on her knees and easily prying them apart. He stepped between her knees preventing her from being able to close them again. His hands pushed the loose flowing dress she was wearing further up her body, inch by cruel inch. He was reveling in her fear and took his time with every movement he made.

"I owe you for what you did to me back in London. Dolohov already got his payment. Why shouldn't I?"

She had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Even the two times that Rabastan Lestrange tried to rape her she had enough energy to at least try to fight him off. Her fear grew the higher her dress rose. Rowle continued to chuckle at her discomfort. He pushed the remainder of her dress above her waist. Hermione felt the cool air of the dungeons on her most private of areas and she couldn't stop the cries from escaping her throat.

"Please don't! Please stop!"

"Don't worry so much, Princess. I'll make you feel good."

His hands shifted from her hips to her swollen, tender breasts. She tried to move her chest out of his reach, but it was no use. He seemed to like it when she struggled underneath him. His deep chuckles broke the silence of the room. His meaty hands squeezed and pulled and pained her chest. She couldn't stop the continuous stream of tears running out of her eyes if she tried. Rowle removed his right hand from her body. Hermione heard the distinctive sounds made when trousers were unzipped. She was desperately afraid. No one had ever been this close to her without her express permission. His laughter was replaced with the quiet groans of a man preparing himself.

"What would your sister say if she could see you right now?"

Her question stunned him. Rowle removed his left hand from her body and stared down at her. Hermione forced herself to meet his blue eyes.

"What did you say?" His voice came out as a low growl.

"What would your sister say if she could see you right now?"

The back of his hand met her cheek with a force she wasn't expecting.

"Don't you _dare_ mention her to me," he warned.

Hermione watched him as he resumed his preparation for his assault. He seemed to be having a harder time of it than she was certain he usually did for being such a young man. Obviously her question affected him more than he cared for.

"I remember Reina," Hermione continued, ignoring the sharp pain on her cheek. "She was a Hufflepuff just a year above me."

"Don't say her name!"

He slapped her again.

"She was very sweet. I liked her. What do you think _Reina_ would say to you if she could see what you are doing right now?"

Rowle increased his motions to no avail. His frustration was evident.

"She didn't deserve what happened to her."

"I told you to shut up!"

Rowle grabbed her hips roughly in both hands to pull her closer to the edge of the bed.

"Reina didn't deserve to have to pay for your crimes!"

He slapped her across the face once, twice, three, four times. Her face was on fire, but at this point, she didn't care.

"Do you think Reina would like it if she walked in on her older brother trying to do the very thing that happened to her over and over again?"

"Shut up!" His voice was savage.

"Don't you think you are insulting your own sister by your actions? Don't you think she would be screaming at you to stop?"

Rowle removed his hands from her body. He turned away from Hermione and strode across the room. After he zipped his trousers back up and before he made it to the door, he faced the shocked witch still lying on the bed with her lower body exposed.

"Fuck you, bitch! This is not over. I will make you _pay_ for that."

He slammed the door behind him. Hermione pushed herself up to the top of the bed. She laid her head on one of Professor Snape's pillows and finally broke down. The events of just the past few hours of the day were overwhelming. Remembering that too much stress was not healthy for her baby, she began to take repeated deep, calming breaths. Her body finally gave in to its exhaustion only a few minutes later. She slept on until a familiar, comforting hand shook her awake hours later with her dinner tray and several potions for her nerves.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty One

 _"Before you go, Antonin, I wanted to show you something," said Thorfinn._

Antonin stared at the young wizard standing just a few feet away. The look on his face was one that he had seen countless times before. Usually when they were about to commit some atrocious act of violence on innocent and somewhat innocent victims. It made Antonin's hair stand up on the back of his neck. He couldn't explain why exactly, but Rowle was making him very uneasy. He stopped his movements towards the stairs to the lower level to see what he was going on about. Thorfinn removed something from his pocket.

When the words "priori portus" came out of his mouth, Antonin's stomach dropped. He was holding the portkey that they used to travel from Kingsley Shacklebolt's home to the safe house where the large Resistance meeting was held weeks earlier. The house that Hermione lived in. The house that Hermione was likely alone in that very moment. Antonin rushed towards the massive wizard, but it was too late. With that smirk still plastered across his face, Rowle disappeared before their very eyes.

"No!" Antonin screamed.

He didn't know what to do in his panicked state. His imagination ran wild with thoughts of what Rowle would do if he managed to surprise Hermione alone in that empty house. Remembrances of all of the times Thorfinn brought up the incident at the café in London when Hermione and her friends attacked them and modified their memories made his stomach churn and his heart threaten to beat right out of his chest. Thorfinn had been so angry that day. They both experienced heavy doses of the Cruciatus Curse at the hands of the little Malfoy bastard, but Antonin had many, many years more experience dealing with the consequences of an angry Dark Lord than the younger wizard. Thorfinn had been incensed when he realized that "Potter's Hot Little Mudblood" got the better of them. He vowed repeatedly to any of the Death Eaters who would listen that there would come a day when he would get his revenge on the little bitch. His repeated promises of making Hermione pay and his out loud wonderings on what "her little Gryffin-whore cunt feels like" was the catalyst that Antonin needed to request Hermione as his war prize. If she was spoken for, she wouldn't be harmed. Rowle was enough of a follower that he wouldn't dream of disobeying a direct order from the Dark Lord.

Which was something that he really should have taken into consideration a little more thoroughly before approaching him about turning traitor to their cause and their Lord. Antonin had foolishly assumed that a man who had to bear witness to the person he loved the most in the world being tortured and raped repeatedly into madness would want to find a way out of the situation he was in and figure out a way to make those responsible pay. His younger sister was the one bright spot in his otherwise miserable life. How many times before Reina was captured by Walden Macnair for Thorfinn's failures did the young wizard talk about her? Talk about how sweet she was and how innocent and naïve she was? He once punched a fellow Death Eater in the face for making a crude remark about his sister and he crucioed another one for making fun of the fact that she was a kind Hufflepuff. They were jokingly speculating that maybe his sister was switched at birth with a fairy changeling because there was no way that a Rowle could _ever_ be compassionate and kindhearted. Antonin imagined that if he had a younger sister that he loved more than himself and she was forced to be a deviant's plaything in front of him that he would move Heaven and Hell to make the bastards responsible pay.

Maybe Antonin was growing soft in his old age. Maybe he was imagining monsters could suddenly become good people. After all, wasn't that what _he_ was trying to become? He was trying to prove that he could be a better man. Prove that he wasn't the ghoul he'd worked so hard at being in his younger years. He had motivation to be a better man. Even though he wasn't naïve or deluded enough to believe that Hermione would ever leave Lucius Malfoy for him, he wanted her to know he was a good man. Or at least that he _could_ be a good man. He wanted his son to be proud of him instead of ashamed to admit whose blood ran through his veins. He didn't expect to survive to the end. There would be no happily ever after for him. All he could offer the dream of the family that would never be his was the promise of redemption.

"What just happened?" Arthur Weasley asked, obviously terrified to hear the details.

"He stole the portkey we used to come to the meeting three weeks ago," Antonin explained, his temper rising with the level of his fear. "Because of all of the protective enchantments on the house, we had to have a portkey that was created by the Secret Keeper."

"Fuck!" yelled Lucius. The crudeness of the usually polished wizard's language was surprising for the other two men standing in the Ministry corridor with him. "How could this happen?"

"Rowle must have taken it from me when I wasn't aware," Antonin admitted, kicking himself mentally for his lapse in judgment that day. He honestly wasn't surprised that the portkey was stolen. There had been so much running through his already overactive brain when the meeting concluded that it would have been simple for the man to take the real portkey when he wasn't looking and replace it with a facsimile. "He reactivated it."

"He's at the cottage?" Arthur asked, his face pale and sweaty with fear. "Lucius, Hermione…"

"Yes, I know! She's alone."

Lucius glared at Antonin with all of the fury that he possessed. Before Antonin could even register what was happening, Lucius' fist was making contact with his nose… again. He was too shocked to reciprocate before Arthur shot up a protective barrier between the two. With six sons and a daughter that was renowned throughout the country for her fiery temper, the man was a veritable expert in preventing two people from beating the hell out of each other. His stern face stared down each of the other two younger wizards with a promise of more if their behavior did not conform to what was acceptable. Antonin could see a bit of his formidable father in the wizard who was only older than him by a year or two. It made him take pause.

"That is enough of that, Lucius! If we are to get to Hermione and protect her, then you two are going to have to put your differences aside for the present and work together."

Neither of them could argue with Arthur. He was correct whether they wished he was or not. Antonin tapped his nose with his wand to stop the bleeding and perform a quick healing spell. He'd lost count the number of times his nose had been broken or almost broken since he was twelve years old. Even as a Ravenclaw who was expected to use his mind to solve his problems and fight his fights, he'd often resorted to fists in his life. There was something truly satisfying sometimes at feeling and hearing an opponent's bones crunch beneath the force of your bare hands. As much as he wanted to decimate the pretty boy's face beyond recognition, Antonin could not disagree that they would have an easier time of protecting Hermione if they worked together.

"We're wasting time talking about this," Antonin snapped. "He could already be hurting her as we speak."

"He's right, Lucius. Think of how tired Hermione has been lately. She won't be able to put up much of a fight at all and if she is caught unaware…"

"I know, Arthur!"

"You will have to take me there," said Antonin, ignoring his petulant protests. "I cannot get there on my own without that portkey or the Secret Keeper divulging the secret."

"Fine!"

Lucius took hold of Antonin's elbow with a ferocity of strength that made Antonin flinch. He attempted to Apparate them out of the building, but it was no use. His Dark Mark had been blasted off of his arm for disobedience and treachery the same day he tortured his wife into madness and witnessed their son murder her with a curse.

"I will have to Apparate us out of the building," Antonin explained. "One of the last acts Pius made as Minister was to change the wards to allow anyone with a Dark Mark to Apparate in, out and around the building."

"All right!" Lucius released his hold on Antonin's elbow and used his non-wand arm to grip his other arm with the same ferocity as before. "Take us outside of the building and then I will take you to the cottage. Are you coming, Arthur?"

"No," he answered. "As much as I love Hermione and think of her as my own, I have four of my children in this building. I have to make certain they are all right first. Please be careful, Lucius. Remember what we talked about earlier."

Lucius nodded in the direction of the redheaded man before turning his expression towards Antonin. He glared at the dark haired wizard. The hatred that the two men felt for each other was palpable. Funny how a witch could cause such discord between two wizards who never really had any reason to dislike each other before she entered the picture. It was a story as old as time. With one more nod in the direction of Arthur Weasley, Antonin turned on the spot to Disapparate them outside to the London pavement. They were hardly outside for a moment before Lucius was pulling on his elbow again and started the process over once more.

They landed just outside the front door to the lovely cottage by the sea that he'd been forced into bound and blindfolded on New Year's Eve. Lucius dropped his elbow immediately and rushed through the door. He ran up the stairs shouting Hermione's name repeatedly. Antonin was every bit as nervous and afraid for the young witch, but he struggled to keep his composure. He wandered through the ground level of the house calling after her and hoping and praying that his fears about Thorfinn Rowle were unfounded.

"She is not here," Lucius said several minutes later. He came running down the stairs with an unfamiliar wand in his hand. "She is not here and she does not have her wand with her."

"Fuck!"

Lucius closed the distance between them in no time at all. He threw the spare wand across the room. His hands were around Antonin's throat half a second before Antonin was prepared to defend himself. Lucius squeezed the other wizard's throat with all of his strength while Antonin kicked out at him and tried to push his crazed form away with his arms. Remembering that he was a wizard, Antonin aimed his wand at Lucius' stomach. With one nonverbal spell Lucius flew across the room to land on the comfortable looking sofa by the fireplace. The blond rose the moment he landed to cross the room again, but Antonin's shield prevented any further forward motion on his part.

"That's enough, Lucius!"

"You bastard! You are the reason she is gone. Couldn't keep your mind on anything but her long enough to make certain that your arsehole comrade wasn't stealing the portkey, could you? If anything… _anything_ at all happens to her, I will gladly watch you die a slow and excruciatingly painful death."

Lucius used his wand to break the shield charm to further his point. He kept his distance from Antonin, but both men knew it was only a matter of time before he blew up again. Antonin reminded himself of the importance of never dropping his guard around this dangerous wizard. They were very evenly matched in magical abilities, skills and sheer physical prowess.

"Where would he take her?" Lucius demanded.

Antonin swallowed. He had a theory and it was not one he wanted to contemplate further. If Thorfinn truly hadn't changed his loyalties, he was fairly certain where he would take Hermione.

"Hogwarts."

The implication of the single word and what it meant for the witch they both loved in common was not lost on Lucius. His steely grey eyes widened in shock and in fear at the thought of his beloved Hermione lost to the clutches of the Dark Lord. Their former master wasn't the only danger for her there either. How many of their former brothers—in-arms would not hesitate to assault and injure a pregnant woman they believed to be beneath them? How many times had they both _personally_ witnessed the cruelty and depravity of Walden Macnair when it came to young, beautiful women? He didn't care if they were pureblooded witches, Muggles or filthy Mudbloods. He'd rape and torture them all with a twisted smile on his face. He was the worst kind of Death Eater, the kind that actually experienced sick, sexual pleasure in the screams of his victims.

"I'm sure he would take her to the Dark Lord. No doubt he was ordered to."

"Why?"

"I'd always thought you were an intelligent man, Lucius. I would think it was obvious."

Lucius glowered. Antonin sighed, not even bothering to hide his frustration.

"What do you want to do at this exact moment, Lucius?" he asked.

"Go to Hogwarts and save her."

" _Exactly_. Do you think maybe that's _exactly_ what the Dark Lord wants us to do?"

Despite his desire to, Lucius could not argue with Antonin's assumption. It was exactly what their former master would do. How many times in the past when Harry Potter was still alive did he talk about how the boy would come to him instead of the other way around? He was certain in the lull between the two parts of the final battle at Hogwarts that Potter would seek him out. The Death Eaters were itching to rush back into the chaos to find the boy, but the Dark Lord knew that given the right motivation, he could lure his prey to him.

"Fuck! We cannot just leave her there. You know how much danger she is in."

"Yes, I do, Lucius. Especially considering it was Thorfinn who found her."

The two wizards stared at each other for a long time trying to figure out what their next movement would be. Of course Antonin was correct. The Dark Lord would use Hermione as bait to lure them right into his trap. They couldn't afford to rush off to her rescue half-cocked with no real plan of action. As they stood there imagining what they could do next, the silence was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of a misty, silver eagle flying through the front door into the room.

 _"She's here. Minerva has seen her and says that she is safe. Do not come here, Father. He is expecting you and Dolohov. It's a trap."_

The eagle dissipated immediately after the message was over. Antonin couldn't hide the fact that he was impressed by Draco Malfoy's patronus. It was a difficult bit of magic that he had never been able to complete himself.

"Fuck!" Lucius shouted again. "What do we do now?"

"We wait," Antonin answered. "We wait until we can come up with a solid plan. That's all we can do."

* * *

Hermione was gently woken up by a pair of familiar, comforting hands. She blinked several times before she could see well enough in the darkened room to realize that Poppy Pomfrey was sitting on the edge of the bed smiling down at her. In her six years as a student at Hogwarts, Hermione had been on the receiving end of Madam Pomfrey's warm smiles and harsh glares more times than she could count. She'd been a patient in the infirmary more times than she could remember.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, but her face was split into a friendly smile.

"I'm so tired," she answered. Hermione didn't even really have the energy or strength to raise her head off of the soft pillow.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand up and down Hermione's form. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed the longer she examined the young woman. She didn't say anything as she continued her examination. Hermione knew her well enough to know that she would give her the answers she had when she was finished. There was no reason to interrupt the elderly woman when she was in the middle of working. She wouldn't answer any questions even if she tried.

"You are about thirty weeks along, aren't you?" Madam Pomfrey asked several minutes later.

"Yes, I think so," Hermione replied. "Is everything all right?"

"Have you been experiencing unusual levels of exhaustion as your pregnancy has progressed?"

"Yes, I have. Is that normal?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head slightly, but then turned another warm smile on the now terrified witch.

"Nothing to worry about, my dear." She placed a cool hand on top of Hermione's to give it a reassuring squeeze. "This happens sometimes. I wouldn't say that extreme exhaustion is _normal_ , but it's not unusual. Have you been able to receive proper magical prenatal care?"

"I have been examined by a healer still in training several times. He didn't understand why I was so tired either."

Madam Pomfrey tutted and shook her head. It was a familiar gesture Hermione had seen many times before, most notably when Gilderoy Lockhart removed all of the bones in Harry's arm in their second year. She had definite opinions about other healers and non-healers trying to do her job poorly.

"Your iron count is quite low," she explained. "That's not an unusual problem even in Muggle pregnancies. As far as magical pregnancies are concerned, the exhaustion a mother feels while she is pregnant correlates very closely to the magical strength of the baby that she carries. The more powerful the magic is of the baby, the more energy is drained of the mother's. You have a little wizard who is going to be very powerful when he grows up."

Hermione smiled a small smile at the thought.

"Of course, that's not surprising at all considering who his parents are."

Hermione dropped her eyes from Madam Pomfrey's to rest on the comforter she was still laying on top of. She had been too tired after the events of the day, especially Rowle's attempted assault, that she fell asleep before she even crawled underneath the blankets on the bed. Her cheeks began to flush at the mention of her child's parents. She wondered if Professor McGonagall had informed her dear friend of the circumstances of Hermione's pregnancy before sending her down to the dungeons. Based on the sad smile Madam Pomfrey was giving her and the way she clasped her hand again, she was certain she had.

"I remember Mr. Dolohov when he was a young boy here," Madam Pomfrey said, surprising Hermione enough to meet her eyes again. "He was very serious, but he was also fiercely loyal. He was very protective of his fellow Ravenclaws. When they were bullied by the older students or students from other Houses, he would confront them. Unfortunately, he spent a great deal of time in my infirmary."

"Ravenclaw? I didn't know he was a Ravenclaw. I assumed he was a…"

"Slytherin?" Madam Pomfrey smiled at her with the familiar patronizing smile she had employed through the years when dealing with students. "You are aware by now, Miss Granger, that not _all_ Slytherins are bad? And that not all Death Eaters are Slytherins?"

Hermione immediately felt ashamed by her assumptions. Honestly, the discussion with Antonin about what House he was sorted in never once came up in their entire association. She simply assumed that like Lucius and almost every other Death Eater she knew of, that he was another Slytherin. She remembered how Ron used to say that there wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. She felt embarrassed that she took such ignorant, untrue words to heart.

"He made some very poor decisions, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey continued. "I was very disappointed to hear about what he got involved in once he left school. He had a great deal of potential that I fear has been wasted."

Madam Pomfrey patted Hermione's hand a final time before levitating a dinner tray in front of her. She assisted her patient in sitting up in the massive bed.

"You need to eat, Miss Granger. You are drained. That is why you are exhausted."

"Can you help that?"

"Of course I can, my girl! And any _proper_ healer worth their potions would know how to do so as well. I understand that with the world the way it is at the moment finding competent medical help can be a problem, but you _must_ find another healer as soon as possible."

"What do I need?"

"Just a series of potions, good, hearty food and lots of rest. Have you noticed that your magic has not been as effective as it usually is?"

"Yes. I've been struggling with basic spells and charms lately. It's gotten worse the longer I've been pregnant."

"Common problem with witches who don't get proper prenatal care. Your little wizard is drawing off of your magical core. Just like he gets his nourishment from what you eat, he gets his magic from you as well."

Hermione began to eat the hot chicken soup the healer brought with her. She hadn't realized how hungry she was with everything that had happened to her that day. Food didn't seem that important compared to her kidnapping, her meeting with Lord Voldemort and then the attempted rape by Rowle. She was thankful that the nausea that plagued most of her pregnancy was at an all-time low at the moment.

"Eat up, Miss Granger. I want you to finish everything on your plate and then take each of these potions." She set at least seven potion vials on the tray next to her food.

They were both startled by a hard knock on the outside of the door. Hermione dropped her spoon. She was certain that Rowle was coming back to finish the task that he started. Didn't he promise that he would make her pay for what she did to him? Promised that it was not over. Her hands shook as she tried to reclaim her spoon from inside the soup bowl. Madam Pomfrey crossed the room to answer the summons.

"Quickly, quickly," she said to whoever was on the other side of the door.

Professor McGonagall burst through the doorway. Immediately Hermione felt more relaxed. Her hand stopped shaking enough to hold her spoon.

"Come on, Mr. Malfoy. Hurry!" scolded Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione dropped her spoon again at the sound of the name Malfoy. Her eyes shot up to the doorway expecting Lucius to enter at any moment even though that didn't make any sense at all. The room was dark, but she couldn't miss the almost white blonde hair that she saw on the figure crossing the room. Her heart beat faster the closer he came. She tried to keep the smile plastered on her face when the disappointment hit her that the Malfoy she was seeing standing at the foot of the bed was not the one she wished it was.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Granger," Draco teased as he came up to the side of the bed. "I know I'm the wrong Malfoy."

Hermione pushed the tray away from her. To the surprise of every single person in the room, she threw her arms around Draco's neck and began to sob loudly into his shoulder. Draco simply held her, running his hand up and down her back in a pacifying manner, and whispering soothing words that he had experience using with Luna when she behaved in much the same manner. The emotionally exhausted and terrified woman in his arms clung to the affectionate gestures with both hands. Their school rivalry was forgotten and all of the harsh words they'd both said to each other didn't matter anymore.

"Shh, Hermione, it's all right," he whispered to the continued shock of the two older witches in the room staring at the unusual display. "We will keep you safe here until Father can come break you out."

"No, no, you can't. There's too many of them and they all want to hurt me," she cried. "Rowle already tried to…"

She immediately shut her mouth as the confession of what Rowle tried to do to her earlier started to come out. Draco didn't need to know about that. It would do no good. If there was even anything he _could_ do, he would be putting himself into serious danger.

"Hermione, what did Rowle try to do?" he demanded, shaking her shoulders just a bit.

"He… he…" She pushed herself away from Draco and clutched her cheeks. Her face was still tender from the repeated backhanded slaps he'd hit her with out of anger and frustration. Obviously he hadn't left any severe marks or Madam Pomfrey would have said something about them before then. "He is still very angry at me for what happened in London the day the Ministry fell, the day he was tortured…"

"By me," Draco answered for her. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"

"He tried to, but he couldn't. Just slapped me around several times and stormed out of her. He promised he would make me pay later."

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey both gasped at her confession. Draco was not surprised that she was attacked. He was glad to hear that Thorfinn had been unable to complete his intended assault. The man was disgusting. Always had been. He pulled Hermione back to his shoulder and let her cry herself out. No one moved to stop her. Several minutes passed before she started to hiccup and the sobs slowed down. Draco continued to run his hand up and down her back.

"Don't look so surprised, ladies," he joked to the other members of staff staring at the display of two of their former students in the affectionate posture they never would've expected. "Hermione's going to be my new step-mummy. Did you know that?"

Hermione snorted into his shoulder. She appreciated the humor he was trying to bring into the situation.

"No, I was unaware of that fact," replied Madam Pomfrey, her confused tone of voice evident to all.

"Don't you dare call me 'step-mummy' again," Hermione warned.

"Fair enough. What would you like Xeno to call you? Grannie?"

Hermione pushed herself away from the young man.

"You foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach." Her tone was low and threatening, but she couldn't hide the amusement in her teary eyes. Draco hugged her once last time before leading her to sit back down on the bed. "I saw a photo of Xeno just the other day."

Draco's eyes lit up at the mention of his son. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"I haven't seen him since the day he was born," he admitted, a bit of sadness obvious in his tone. "How does he look?"

"Absolutely beautiful," she answered. "Looks just like you, but don't let that go to your head."

They all laughed.

"Dean Thomas brought Lucius a photograph of him. He said that he is growing up very quickly and is already trying to walk."

Draco's handsome visage broke out into the brightest sad smile Hermione had ever seen. She could only imagine how hard it was for him to be away from his child and the woman he loved. Once more she said a silent prayer for a speedy end to this damned war. She desperately wanted Luna and little Xeno to come back.

"How precious," exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "He's a bit young to be walking though, isn't he?"

"Malfoys are always advanced for their age, Poppy," he teased. "I won't be surprised if next week he's not already running and speaking in complete sentences…"

"About Crumple Horned Snorkacks," added Hermione.

Draco's eyes met hers and they both burst into loud laughter. The other women joined in. They remembered Luna Lovegood vividly from her days at school. She was not a person who was easily forgotten.

"I'm anxious to see him again," he admitted.

Hermione reached across the bed to take his hand in hers. She gave it an affectionate squeeze before releasing it.

"I'm sure you are," she said. "I'm anxious to see him again too. I miss Luna."

"So do I."

She could feel more tears fill up her eyes. Hermione took several deep breaths in an attempt to keep them at bay, but it was no use. Fat tears dropped onto her cheeks at regular intervals. She sincerely hoped that all of the crying was because of her pregnancy. If she had these emotional outbursts to look forward to for the rest of her life she was certain she would go completely insane in no time at all.

"I want to go home," she cried. "This castle used to be my home, but it's not anymore. I want to go back to the manor."

"I do too," Draco agreed.

"Draco, perhaps we should leave Miss Granger here to rest," suggested Madam Pomfrey.

"No! Please don't leave me alone."

She felt the familiar threat of tears in her eyes and she couldn't stop the flow even if she wanted to. The thought of being alone in the dungeon quarters again, completely at the mercy of any of the random Death Eaters free to wander the castle made her heart race with a fear she couldn't describe.

"We have to, Hermione. I'm sorry," Draco said. "Minerva and Poppy are risking a great deal by even allowing me in the room with you. If anyone were to find out that I had been to visit you, my loyalties would be questioned even more than they already are. It would put everyone in this room in a great deal of danger."

"Miss Granger, you will be all right." Professor McGonagall spoke for the first time. Her tone was the familiar brisk one that she always employed with her students. It was comforting and reassuring. "I spoke earlier at length with _him_ about my concerns for your safety. It is in his best interest to keep you protected as well. If he really plans on using you as a lure to bring in Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Dolohov, we have to keep you safe from the others in the castle with less _noble_ regard for you. I was given permission to place special wards around these quarters. Only three people are allowed to enter them without permission."

"Who?" Three people could still do a lot of harm to her if they were the wrong three.

"Poppy, myself and _him_. _He_ doesn't leave the headmaster's office very often, but he will be allowed to enter if he wishes."

Hermione tried to swallow but found her mouth quite dry. The most evil wizard history had ever known had a key to her bedroom. At least Rowle and Macnair wouldn't be able to get to her whenever they wanted. As long as she was locked up in Professor Snape's old rooms she should be fine. Madam Pomfrey crossed back over to the bed to take Hermione's wrist in her hand. She checked her pulse and ran her wand over her body again.

"Miss Granger, you _must_ get more rest. If you are any more anxious you could go into early labor."

"Listen to her, Hermione. That's my little brother or sister you're carrying."

"It's a boy."

A wide smile crossed Draco's face. He placed a large hand on her shoulder.

"Excellent. I've always wanted a little brother."

"We have to get you to at _least_ thirty four weeks along, Miss Granger. Any earlier than that and there could be some serious complications for your child," Madam Pomfrey continued.

"I will try," Hermione promised.

"Not good enough."

Madam Pomfrey pulled another potion vial out of the pocket of her apron. She set it down on the tray at the end of the line of potions Hermione still hadn't finished taking.

"I am prescribing bed rest for at least a week, Miss Granger. Your body is exhausted. You must have more sleep. I'm going to stand right here until you finish every single potion on that tray."

Professor McGonagall and Draco both gave her warm hugs before excusing themselves from the room. Madam Pomfrey did exactly what she warned she would do. Hermione swallowed every single mouthful of potion that she prescribed. By the time the last potion was making its way to her stomach, she felt her eyes grow heavy.

"Lie back down, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey ordered. "That last potion will help you get all of the rest you need. When I am satisfied that you have had enough sleep and your body has recovered as much as it possibly can, I will give you the antidote to the potion."

Hermione snuggled into the warm bedding. The bed was so soft and inviting. She couldn't understand how Professor Snape could always be as grumpy as he was if this was the bed he got to look forward to every night. It was _almost_ as comfortable as Lucius' bed. She fell asleep to thoughts of snuggling up with Lucius in _their_ bed.

* * *

"I understand your desire to rush off to Hogwarts and save Hermione, I really do," Kingsley said to the gathered group of Arthur, Lucius, Antonin and the rest of the Weasley family in the kitchen of Shell Cottage. "I love that sweet girl too. She has been through more than enough the past few years. If it were in my power to do so, I would personally march up to the castle and retrieve her myself."

A chorus of angry and frustrated voices rang through the entire cottage at the new interim Minister for Magic's words. Once the retakeover of the Ministry was completed, the entire Weasley family came back to Bill's home to begin the plan of storming off to their old school to reclaim one of their own.

"The longer she is in there the more danger she is in, Kingsley!"

"I know, Ginny. We can't just rush off without a plan."

"Mr. Shacklebolt is right," Antonin announced to the group. Every single pair of eyes turned to glare at the Death Eater. Despite no one being able to deny the fact that he had a right to be there to retrieve the woman carrying his child, he was not welcome. No one wanted him there. "I'm certain you all remember the details of the last battle at Hogwarts. Without a plan, we'll _all_ be dead this time."

Charlie had to grab his sister by her waist to prevent her launching herself at the dangerous man seated at the kitchen table. She made her feelings about the man clear the moment she laid eyes on him again. _"One step out of line, Dolohov, and I will gladly rip you apart with my bare hands. Don't underestimate me."_ He wouldn't have dreamed of underestimating her. He could sense a commanding, fiery witch when he was in the presence of one.

"How long do you think it will take before we can assemble a large enough group and make a plan?" Lucius asked. No matter how much he might hate the man, he understood that if there was anyone else in the Resistance who could estimate what was needed to overthrow the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, it was another former Death Eater from the Inner Circle.

"The Dark Lord will want us to come, so he will make certain that she is safe. We can be ready to launch a successful assault on the Dark Lord in two weeks, a week at the absolute earliest."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty Two

Bright, round eyes were staring at Hermione when she finally woke from the deep sleep Madam Pomfrey put her in. She almost screamed until her eyes adjusted enough in the dim light to make out Tildie's familiar features. Lucius' most trusted house elf was examining her with an intensity that caused goosebumps to prickle all over her body. The gaze caused Hermione's cheeks to redden and feel exposed as if she'd somehow forgotten to put her clothes on.

"Hello, Tildie," she greeted while she tried to pull her body into a seated position.

"Tildie is sorry she woke Missy Hermione up!" the tiny, ancient creature exclaimed. "Tildie must punish herself now. She was given very strict orders!"

The house elf began to noisily bang her head on the nightstand next to the bed to Hermione's extreme horror. She mustered up all of her strength to reach across the bed to grab the back of Tildie's tea towel toga. It took her a couple of tries before she managed to pull the evidently distraught elf onto the bed with her.

"Tildie, stop that right now," she ordered.

Tildie covered her face with her hands before bursting into loud, shrill sobs. Hermione was at a loss on how to proceed. When she placed a comforting arm on the house elf it only caused the poor thing to sob even harder than she had before. Soothing words did not help. They only seemed to aggravate the problem. After several minutes and several failed attempts to calm her, Hermione was at her wit's end.

"Tildie, I order you to stop crying this instant!"

Tildie's cries ceased immediately. Hermione was surprised when she saw the now silent elf remove her hands from her face and stare back at the young witch with her round eyes still swimming with tears.

"I wasn't sure that would work," Hermione said still impressed by the speed in which her words forced the elf to obey.

"Master Lucius told Tildie that she was to do whatever Missy Hermione told Tildie to do," the elf explained.

"Lucius? You've seen him?"

Tildie's entire demeanor changed at the question. Her tears dried up as she stood taller on the bed with her shoulders back and her chest pushed out. Her pride in her master was evident.

"Yes, Missy Hermione. Master Lucius calls for Tildie at least twice a day since you came to Hogwarts."

"How is he? Is he coming here?"

"Master Lucius will not tell Tildie his plans, but Tildie knows that he misses Missy Hermione very much and is very worried about her."

Hermione's anxiety began to lessen just a tiny bit at the elf's words. She knew that Lucius would do whatever was in his power to rescue her from the prison of her former school.

"Master Lucius orders Tildie to keep her eyes on Missy Hermione at all times when she is not doing the _other_ thing he ordered her to do."

Memories of sixth year when Harry ordered his house elf Kreacher to spy on Draco and Dobby volunteered to help flashed through Hermione's mind. Poor Dobby didn't sleep for days at a time after volunteering for the mission. She stared at the ancient elf swaying on the bed in front of her and shook her head. Lucius really should've known better than to give Tildie such a literal order.

"Tildie, when did you last get some sleep?"

The elf stifled a yawn and opened her eyes up as widely as she could.

"Tildie isn't sure, Missy Hermione."

"Tildie, I order you to go to bed and get some sleep."

"Yes, Missy Hermione." She didn't even try to hide the yawn. "But Madam Pomfrey tells Tildie to tell her when Missy Hermione wakes up."

"All right, Tildie. Tell Madam Pomfrey I'm awake and then _go to bed_."

The elf snapped her fingers before disappearing from the room. Not for the first time Hermione found herself jealous of the fact that house elves had the ability to Apparate in and out of the castle. How many times would that particular skill have come in handy when she was a student? The castle was so large that there were plenty of times between classes that her legs ached and she had to practically run to not be late for her next lesson. Apparition within the castle would've certainly come in handy all of those times she and the boys snuck out after curfew.

Her musings were interrupted several minutes later by the arrival of Hogwarts' matron. Madam Pomfrey crossed the room with only a curt nod in greeting. She began her examination of her patient immediately. Hermione sat up in the bed to patiently wait until she was finished to ask questions.

"You are much improved, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey announced. "I'm pleased to report that all of your vitals are exactly where they need to be. Everything looks great. As long as we can continue to prevent you from preterm labor, you should have a very healthy, little wizard."

Hermione didn't even try to mask her relief at the older witch's words. She was thankful to finally have some competent medical care. It made all of the difference in the world. For months she had been living in terror that something would go wrong with her pregnancy. Trying to reassure a paranoid, terrified pregnant woman and begging her to remain stress free was damn near impossible. While she would always be grateful for the loving care that both Lucius and Arthur had provided during her pregnancy, their tendencies to fuss and fret over her only caused her even more anxiety.

"That's wonderful to hear," Hermione replied. "How long was I asleep?"

Based on how rested she felt, Hermione assumed she'd been sleeping for about two solid days. It had been a long time since she last experienced that high level of energy.

"Almost ten days," Madam Pomfrey answered.

Hermione's eyes grew wide at the revelation that she had been asleep for almost a week and half. She'd never required that much bed rest before if you ignored the time in her second year when she was petrified by the basilisk. How could a person sleep that long?

"Why so long?" she asked the matron unable to let her wild thoughts go.

"I informed you in the very beginning, Miss Granger, that I would let you sleep until I was satisfied you had enough rest."

"But _ten_ days? That's madness."

"No, Miss Granger, what is madness is the fact that you are less than two months away from having a full term baby and you are just _now_ receiving any kind of proper prenatal care."

Hermione dropped her eyes to the comforter on the bed, her cheeks flushing. Her child wasn't even born yet and she already felt like an abysmal failure. What kind of mother would she make if she couldn't even do right by her baby before it was even born? Madam Pomfrey reached across the bed to lightly pat Hermione on the shoulder.

"I am not blaming you, Miss Granger," she explained. "I cannot even begin to imagine what you have been through these past few years since you were out of school. This war has been difficult for us all, but I know it has been harder for some than for others. It simply makes me angry that former, talented students of mine have been forced to go into hiding without access to proper healthcare."

The elderly mediwitch's face was almost as red as Hermione's had been. Madam Pomfrey was known for keeping her temper in check, but she occasionally had bouts of sheer frustration with the situation she'd found herself in. She had been hired to take care of scrapes, bruises and the odd case of influenza. Not care for second years suffering the aftereffects of repeated rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. If she wasn't just as terrified of leaving the students alone as Minerva McGonagall, she would have tendered her resignation years earlier.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said in an effort to calm the other woman down a bit.

Poppy Pomfrey turned a warm smile in her direction. Any words she was going to say in reply were cut off by the abrupt return of Tildie. The exhausted house elf was still swaying on her feet.

"Please excuse Tildie, Missy Hermione, but she has a message for you from Master Lucius."

Hermione's ears perked up at her beloved's name.

"Master Lucius says that he is happy to hear that you are awake again, Missy Hermione. He also says that 'if Missy Hermione has any foolish plans of Gryffindoric stupidity that she would like to pursue to get her out of Hogwarts, he would request that she stop immediately. She will only hurt herself and our child.'"

Tildie smiled up at Hermione with all of the pride she could muster at having successfully conveyed her master's message. Hermione had to remind herself not to laugh aloud in the elf's presence and run the risk of offending the poor creature.

"Thank you, Tildie. Please go get some sleep now. I'm well looked after by Madam Pomfrey."

Tildie's eyes could barely stay open as she gave Hermione and Madam Pomfrey a small curtsey and disappeared once more. Both women caught each other's eyes before chuckling at her exit.

"You really are going to marry Lucius Malfoy then?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"That's the plan," Hermione replied with a smile. When she saw the odd expression cross the elder witch's face, she felt a bit embarrassed and wanted to explain. "Lucius went missing after Azkaban for several months. I'm afraid I thought he was dead."

"You do not have to explain anything to me, Miss Granger. It is none of my business."

"But I want to. I thought he was dead and Antonin was so kind to me that I… well, we're both adults here. I made a mistake and now I'm paying for it."

Her hands rested on her swollen belly. Madam Pomfrey reached across to pat one.

"Children are a blessing, Miss Granger, no matter how they enter our lives."

Madam Pomfrey took a few more minutes to finish her examination before she had to rush off to the hospital ward to take care of some Quidditch injuries on the sixth year team. She made Hermione promise that she would move around the quarters but not over exert herself. Hermione reluctantly agreed.

A few years earlier Hermione would've gladly accepted the opportunity to explore her potions professor's private quarters without fear of being caught. Of all of the teachers she had in her six years of schooling in the castle, she was always most interested in Professor Snape. He was a mystery to her that she would've loved to solve. Maybe it was the overwhelming desire she always had to help the downtrodden and misunderstood. When he'd killed the Headmaster she'd outwardly believed him to be the worst traitor she could imagine. On the inside, however, she'd had her doubts. To learn later that he'd only been acting on Professor Dumbledore's orders made her both relieved and sad that he was ever forced into that position. Sometimes she really questioned all of Albus Dumbledore's plans and schemes. He wasn't the doddering, harmless old fool he tried to pretend he was. Dumbledore was a powerfully dangerous wizard who hadn't always made the best decisions.

Hermione carefully placed her feet on the cold floor. She was thankful that Madam Pomfrey had the presence of mind to bring her warm slippers and a clean robe to wear. After wasting no time in changing, Hermione began a slow walk around the rooms she'd been provided. They consisted of a large sitting room with several full bookshelves she was certain she would find interesting, the comfortable bedroom she'd inhabited the past ten days and a spacious bathroom similar to the prefects' bathroom. It was obvious that Hogwarts took good care of its staff.

The most unsettling part about the professor's quarters was the eerie feeling she got looking at his possessions strewn around the rooms. The open book still laying on top of his desk. Robes still hanging in his wardrobe. A pair of tattered slippers next to the fire. An empty teacup and dirty biscuit plate next to the open book. A used towel still laying in the floor of the bathroom. It was as if the former potions master and Headmaster had simply walked out of his rooms and was still expected back. It was unnerving that no one had packed up his personal effects or even tried to clean the rooms in his absence. Rowle had been right about something. These rooms were definitely haunted. If not by a ghost, definitely haunted by the memory of Severus Snape.

Suppressing a shudder, Hermione moved closer to the oversized fireplace she was certain Tildie had been keeping going since her arrival. She stared at the flames for several minutes relishing the warmth. Her eyes left the flames to settle on the single framed photograph Professor Snape had on his mantle. With all of the reverence she could muster, she took the small silver frame down to examine closer. Instantly she could tell it was a Muggle photo as neither of the subjects were moving. Two children around age ten or eleven smiled up at the camera. The young girl had bright red hair and the prettiest green eyes she'd ever seen. There was something about her that seemed familiar. The young boy was serious but still allowed a small smile to cross his features. Hermione smiled back at them when she realized she was looking at a young Severus Snape as a boy, a young boy before he was forced to kill his mentor and before he was marked by Lord Voldemort. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Hermione placed the frame back onto the mantle and walked back through the open door to the bedroom.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey insisted that Hermione stay within the confines of the dungeon quarters at all times for her own safety. Professor McGonagall wholeheartedly agreed. Both women made it a point over the next few days to visit her at least once a day to check on her. No one needed to remind Hermione that her safety wasn't guaranteed if she strayed outside of the protective quarters. Thorfinn Rowle's angry declaration still chilled her to her very bones. If remaining cooped up inside the late potions professor's private rooms kept her path from crossing Rowle's, she would gladly live and die within those walls.

On the morning of April 4th, two weeks after her arrival to the castle, Hermione received her first piece of owl mail. She was more than a little surprised when the door to the sitting room opened to let in one of the school's owls. The animal in question dropped the letter in her lap and wasted no time in flying back out the door to the corridor beyond. Hermione couldn't explain why she felt so nervous unrolling the small piece of parchment, but she was. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the note three or four times. Finally she was able to read the message and wished she hadn't.

 _Your presence is demanded at half past nine in the Entrance Hall. –W.M._

She didn't have to wonder who sent the missive. Walden Macnair was going on a unicorn hunt and he was demanding that she accompany him. Knowing she didn't have a choice, Hermione tried to calm herself. The clock on the mantle showed that she still had half an hour before she was expected. Maybe something would come up and he would have to cancel their jaunt out to the forest. Miracles happened, right?

Unfortunately, no follow up message was received. After dressing herself in one of the dresses that Madam Pomfrey managed to find for her when she first arrived, Hermione psyched herself up for an excursion she knew she would hate. Macnair was a monster. No one would ever dispute that. She remembered the way his eyes fell across her body the day she was forced to meet with Lord Voldemort and the Inner Circle of Death Eaters. He didn't even try to hide the lustful thoughts going on inside his disgusting head. Somehow she got the feeling that screaming at him about his younger sister was not going to have the same effect on the older, hardened executioner as it did on Rowle. She would have to be very careful around him.

Macnair was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall when she finally pulled herself out of the dungeons. He was standing by the front door with a large crossbow and a sour expression on his wrinkled face. Her appearance did not do much to soften his features.

"You're late," he spat out the moment she crossed the Entrance Hall to stand by him. "You were _ordered_ to be here at half past. It's now a quarter till."

Hermione wasn't going to apologize for delaying their meeting. She would rather be just about anywhere else in the world than standing with him. If she hadn't been afraid that Lord Voldemort himself would force his way into her bedroom to make her attend Macnair on his cursed hunt, she would've gladly stayed down in the dungeons indefinitely.

"We have a long walk ahead of us," Macnair continued when he realized she wasn't going to apologize or even admit that she was late. "Do you think your fat arse can keep up with me or will I be forced to levitate you there?"

Hermione glared at the man, determined that she would allow no hint of fear to cross her features no matter what he tried to do or say to her.

"I will be just fine," she retorted.

Macnair snorted before turning towards the front door. He pushed open the door wide enough for them to exit the castle at the same time. His bulky frame brushed up against Hermione's. She had to force down the bile that began to inch its way up her throat at the contact. The Death Eater simply sneered down at her.

Hermione struggled to keep up with his long strides as they crossed the grounds. Several times she had to ask that he slow down and wait for her. He would stop in his tracks, turn around and glare at her until she caught back up. At least he wasn't much of a conversationalist. She didn't have to listen to his derogatory and degrading remarks like she had with Rowle. They reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest after what seemed like an eternity of walking. Hermione was already winded and her feet hurt. The exhaustion she'd felt earlier in her pregnancy wasn't as apparent since she was under the care of Madam Pomfrey, but she was woefully out of shape.

The darkness of the Forbidden Forest was always a bit disconcerting to Hermione no matter how many times in the past she'd been inside. She knew the dangers within the confines of the forest, but her fear that morning was focused more on the man walking a few paces ahead of her. Walden Macnair had a reputation. He was a dangerous man who had dangerous predilections for violence. His former position within the Ministry as an executioner for the dangerous beasts like Buckbeak that lost their trials was a position he was made for. He relished in the brutality of bringing death to other creatures. It wasn't difficult for him to transfer his talents from dangerous animals to harmless human beings in the course of his career as a Death Eater. Hermione kept her eyes firmly on the man, determined that he wouldn't catch her off guard that day.

After they had been walking for what felt like hours towards the middle of the forest, Macnair suddenly stopped in a clearing. Trees ended abruptly for about twenty or thirty yards in all directions. Several large boulders were scattered around the area. Without a word of explanation, Macnair sat down on one of the boulders and began to prepare his crossbow. Hermione had never been this deep into the forest, not even when she would come in to visit Grawp or when she lured Dolores Umbridge out there to be attacked by the centaurs. Taking Macnair's lead, she lowered her increasingly clumsy body onto another boulder nearby. It was a relief to finally get off of her feet for just a little bit.

"You know, I was the closest one to you and the giant that day," Macnair blurted out after several long minutes of silence.

Hermione turned to face the hated man. He was still surveying the forest, but he took several opportunities to leer at her. The expression on his face made her shiver.

"Almost caught him before he carried you out into the forest," he continued. "I've often wondered what would've happened if I'd been able to take him down _before_ you got away. Maybe you'd be carrying my bastard right now instead of Antonin's."

The thought made Hermione want to throw up. She didn't even try to hide the disgust she was feeling at the wizard's words. One look at her face and Walden Macnair burst into loud, raucous laughter. How he expected to do any amount of hunting while he was making so much noise was beyond Hermione. She obviously amused him. He petrified her.

"No, probably not," he continued to laugh. "I do get bored so easily. You wouldn't have lasted this long."

She had no doubt that he was serious. Macnair struck her as the sort who would take his pleasure where he wanted, but the moment he grew bored the woman would be dead. Though Lucius was always very vague when explaining the details of Macnair's activities within the organization, she knew enough to know that he was most dangerous to attractive women.

"Though you are a bit a mystery to the rest of us. We can't help but wonder what you've got underneath that skirt that made a man like Antonin turn traitor. Must be pretty fucking spectacular."

"Shut up!" She spoke the first words to the man since they arrived in the clearing. She wished they were more eloquent or intimidating. Macnair simply continued to laugh at her expense.

"Struck a nerve, huh, Mudblood? Bastan used to tease Antonin about you, especially after he finally caught you living with Lucius. Used to beg Antonin to let him try you out."

"Shut up, Macnair. You're disgusting!"

"Did Antonin ever relent?"

"No!" she shouted. "When Rabastan tried, Antonin killed him!"

The moment the words came out of her mouth, Hermione wished she could've put them back in. She never meant to reveal Antonin's secret. Macnair eyed her with a mixture of suspicion, admiration and pure, revolting lust.

"Is that what happened? Hmm, well, can't say I'm surprised to hear the truth. Always expected there was more to the story of how Bastan was killed. That bitch he married might've been crazy, but I didn't think she was capable of killing him."

Hermione fell silent. She didn't want to engage in conversation of any kind of with the horrible man she was alone with. After a few moments of concentrated sneering in her direction, Macnair gave up any hope of further conversation with his hunting companion. He began to survey the area around them. Hermione sat silently on her boulder wishing she could leave.

Nothing happened for what felt like hours. She knew she would never be very successful at hunting. There was too much silence and boring waiting to the activity. Hermione could never understand how there were people in the world who chose to do this for leisure. She wished she had the presence of mind to bring a book with her before she left the dungeons. At least then she wouldn't feel like she was completely wasting her time.

The sun had moved high in the sky before anything of any note happened. Hermione was trying unsuccessfully to stay awake in the rising heat when Macnair suddenly sprang into action. He was off his boulder and lying on the ground in one swift motion. Using the boulder as a brace for the large crossbow, he lay in wait. Hermione was certain that his eyes were much better than hers because it took several more minutes after he threw himself on the ground before she saw what he was seeing.

A fully grown unicorn entered the clearing only about thirty yards away from where the trees ended. Hermione couldn't suppress an audible gasp at the majesty of the creature. She remembered when Professor Grubbly-Plank introduced them to unicorns in the Care of Magical Creatures class. There hadn't been another creature before or since that compared. The unicorn seemed a bit wary of entering the break in the trees. It stamped its gold hooves in place before disappearing back into the trees. Hermione groaned at its absence. Before Macnair could even curse the unicorn's departure, another one entered the area only about twenty feet away from Hermione. She knew it was a different animal because it was even larger than the one she'd seen.

"You're better than a fucking summoning spell," Macnair whispered when the third unicorn entered the clearing.

Hermione suddenly felt sick to her stomach watching the now-three unicorns moving near her. Macnair had the sadistic expression on his face of one who longed to murder an innocent, beautiful animal. She couldn't stand it. How dare he kill such innocence? He began to line up his shot at the largest of the three. Before he had a chance to pull back on the crossbow to release his bolt, Hermione rose from her seated position. She crossed the few feet between her and Macnair. When he pressed on the trigger, she pushed him as hard as she could. The bolt went flying across the clearing, missing its target. The three unicorns quickly disappeared into the expanse of the forest. Macnair was incensed.

"What the fuck are you playing at, daft cow?!"

Macnair rose from the ground to loom over Hermione with a fury that made her hair stand on end. The beefy hand not holding the crossbow came crashing down across Hermione's face with such a force that her ungainly, awkward body fell to the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Hermione lay on the ground gasping for air. Macnair dropped the crossbow and threw his hefty bulk on top of the woman, pinning her still struggling form to the hard ground. Both of his hands reached for her wrists to hold them above her head. Realizing she was completely at his mercy, Hermione began to panic, her promise to Madam Pomfrey to stay away from stressful situations forgotten.

"Do you have any idea what you just did, Mudblood?" he demanded, his hot, foul breath washing over Hermione's face. "That was for the Dark Lord!"

Hermione continued to struggle to get out of his grasp. In an almost exact replica of just two weeks prior with her altercation with Rowle, Macnair rained several backhanded slaps down across her tender face. She was beyond frightened. The glint in the madman's eyes told her his intentions more than his words ever could. With a final blow to her face, Macnair released her wrists.

"I've always found the pregnant cows to be the best shags," he said to the young witch's continued horror. "It's their hormones. Makes them fucking irresistible."

As if to illustrate his point, Macnair thrust a rough hand up the front of her dress. In one swift motion he ripped her knickers off of her body. Hermione could no longer quash her loud sobs. Her cries seemed only to encourage the pig on top of her. She closed her eyes, willing the assault to be over as quickly as possible. Knowing the man's deviant nature, she knew that there was going to be nothing quick about his actions.

Macnair continued to insult the woman lying on the ground. He ripped her dress, exposing her lower regions to the warm air. Hermione experienced a terrifying sense of déjà vu. His actions were almost exact copies of Rowle's in the dungeons. She could feel his exposed and hard manhood on the inside of her thigh. The sensation forced another raucous round of sobs out of her already sobbing frame. Macnair's hands squeezed the tops of her thighs, prying them apart. She kept her eyes closed knowing that at any moment the assault on her person would reach its pinnacle…

Then as swiftly as his hands grabbed her thighs, they were gone. The weight of Macnair's body was gone. She hazarded a peek at what he was doing. Macnair was lying on the ground with his head caved in and bloody. Ten centaurs of varying size and fury surrounded them. Obviously Macnair had been too focused on his assault to notice the approaching herd. Remembering the last time she was in the Forbidden Forest facing a horde of angry centaurs and seeing the perfect hoof mark on Macnair's caved in skull, Hermione's panic threatened to reach epic levels.

"We will not harm a human with foal," the dark centaur nearest Hermione announced. "But you must leave the forest immediately. We will no longer suffer human presence in our forest."

"Thank you," she squeaked out as she pulled herself off of the ground as gracefully as her swollen form would allow her in her condition.

"Do not thank us," the centaur continued. "If we see you in the forest again, foal or not, we will not hesitate to treat you in the same manner."

"Of course. I promise I will not return."

The circle of centaurs stepped back from her a few feet to allow her to exit. Hermione didn't hesitate. After plucking the wand from Macnair's holster, she took off running as quickly as her pregnancy would allow towards the castle. She was thankful that she paid close attention during their hike towards the clearing, but to be safe, she cast a spell to guide her back to the castle. The never-ending journey from earlier in the day seemed to take no time at all. Her fear urged her forward. She hadn't been alone in the Forbidden Forest since the day Grawp set her down before returning to rejoin the battle. After a quick attempt at Apparition, she discovered that the wards that had been broken the day of the battle that allowed her escape, were back in full force.

It took her the better part of an hour, pushing herself at maximum energy, to emerge from the cover of the trees. She ended up just outside the ruins of Hagrid's old cottage. Several students witnessed her emergence from the forest. When the severe cramps started in her abdomen, she collapsed to the ground. Screams from the students near the old cottage digging in Hagrid's old pumpkin patch reached Hermione's ears. She could've sworn that she heard the sound of her name before the world went black.

* * *

Hermione's head was pounding and her back was agonizing. She opened her eyes to take in her surroundings. The ward was dark but she would've known the infirmary anywhere. She spent more time inside Hogwarts' hospital ward during her years at school than she really cared to remember. The soaring, cathedral-like ceiling and the large windows were easily identifiable.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Her voice was no louder than a whisper, but within moments she heard the familiar clicks of the matron's shoes on the stone flagstones.

"Miss Granger?"

The worried healer rushed to the side of her bed. After lighting several lamps in the area, Madam Pomfrey began yet another examination of her patient. Hermione had so many questions, but knew she had to wait to have them answered. Finally after a couple of tense minutes, Poppy Pomfrey lowered her wand and sighed.

"You gave us all quite a fright, Miss Granger," she admonished the young witch in front of her.

"What happened? I remember exiting the Forbidden Forest, but after that…"

"You should be very thankful that Mr. Malfoy was gathering potions ingredients with several of the N.E.W.T. level Potions students this afternoon. If any more time had passed, I might not have been able to stop your labor."

Hermione tried to sit up at the knowledge that she'd been in labor earlier. Anticipating her movements, Madam Pomfrey gently pushed her back down.

"I did advise you to remain as stress free as possible, Miss Granger, in order to prevent preterm labor. While at thirty two weeks your child would have a good chance for survival, you really do not want to push your chances."

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," she spat out, her frustration finally expressing itself. "I didn't exactly _choose_ to be forced to go unicorn hunting with Walden Macnair. I _also_ didn't choose to almost be raped by the disgusting man and then set upon by a herd of angry centaurs!"

"Calm down this instant, Miss Granger!" The authoritative voice of Minerva McGonagall filled the hospital ward. "Listen to Poppy, child. You _cannot_ overexert yourself!"

Her former Head of House was by the side of her bed in moments. She looked as frazzled as Hermione felt.

"I understand that you have had a trying day, Miss Granger…"

Hermione snorted at the complete under exaggeration of the events of the day. She knew that Professor McGonagall was attempting to calm her down, but it wasn't exactly helping.

"How long have I been asleep _this_ time?" Hermione asked the women standing on either side of her bed.

"Mr. Malfoy brought you into the ward just after noon," Madam Pomfrey answered, not in the least offended by Hermione's behavior. "It is just a few minutes to midnight. I was able to get your labor stopped with a few potions and give you a calming draught. You will remain in the hospital ward under my supervision until I am satisfied that you and your baby remain safe."

" _He_ is very angry that you were put into danger by Macnair," said Professor McGonagall. "You are apparently very important to his plans. He sent out a search party to find Macnair. If the bastard knows what's best for him, he'll already be dead."

Hermione couldn't even bring herself to be shocked by the uncharacteristic language coming out of her former professor's mouth. She couldn't agree any more with the woman's words either. Macnair had to be dead. She was convinced of it and was certain that no one would mourn the man.

"Please take another draught, Miss Granger." Madam Pomfrey pushed another vial of potion underneath Hermione's nose. She took it without complaint or argument. "You need to get some more rest, my dear. _Any_ amount of stress _will_ bring your baby into this world whether he is ready to be born or not."

The two elderly witches excused themselves from her bedside to converse quietly in a corner of the ward. Hermione didn't even need to speculate what they were talking about. Neither of their gazes left her hospital bed. Determined to not let the fact that she was once again another spectacle in another zoo upset her, Hermione turned over in her bed to stare out the closest window. Her bed was situated in the perfect spot to view the front gates of the Hogwarts grounds. Everything was quiet which wasn't surprising considering the time. No doubt the vast majority of the castle's inhabitants were snuggled up in their own beds at that very moment. She was tempted to call for Tildie to have her take another message to Lucius, but something stopped her. Morning would arrive before she knew it. Messages could wait until then.

Her eyes grew heavy no doubt as a side effect of the potion she was forced to imbibe only moments earlier. As the clocks struck midnight, Hermione could feel herself slipping into a restful sleep. The chiming in the clock tower had always been a soothing reminder that she was safe within the confines of Hogwarts Castle when she was tucked up in her four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. She found herself counting the chimes as she always had in the past. _Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve_ …

The harsh intruder alarms that she'd only heard once in her entire time at Hogwarts began to sound throughout the castle the moment the twelfth chime ended. Throughout the entire castle, students, teachers, Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort alike were rising from their beds to view the gates outside. To everyone's surprise, there seemed to be no one out there.

* * *

Lucius could feel the powerful magic of the shield charm coursing through every cell in his body. It was a curious bit of magic that he had used on numerous occasions while fighting for the wrong side. He and his fellow Death Eaters would hold up the invisibility shields in front of homes they were planning on raiding in the name of their Dark Lord. Many a witch, wizard and Muggle peered out their windows to see absolutely nothing in their front gardens. To their detriment they had no idea that there were dozens of malevolent followers of a madman hidden behind a powerful shield waiting for the proper moment to strike.

It had been Antonin's idea, _damn the man_ , to use the invisibility shield to cover the approach of the Resistance's forces to the outside of the castle grounds. Even though they could all feel and hear the trespasser alarms going off throughout the castle and its grounds, no one peering out a window would be able to see the hundreds, no, thousands, of Resistance members gathering at the gates. It was an impressive bit of magic that required mass amounts of skill and concentration. Lucius and over a hundred others had been specifically chosen for this task. They harnessed their magic to create the powerful shield that would hide their approach until it was too late for the other side to stop them.

Lucius could feel Arthur standing next to him infusing his own special brand of Weasley magic into the shield. He was grateful to have his friend by his side. They were responsible for protecting the Resistance members behind them until the wards around the castle and its grounds could be lowered. The response of the call to arms over the past two weeks had been astonishing. Every outpost around the world that the formers members of Dumbledore's Army had set up to protect the fugitives and their families had been emptied. DA members, parents, siblings old enough to fight, Russian allies, former "Umbridge Girls", Ministry personnel and "Disillusioned Death Eaters" gathered in Hogsmeade to begin their final assault on the Dark Lord's regime. The fear, anxiety and excitement emanating off of all of the combatants was intoxicating. They all knew that one way or another the war would finally end with this final assault.

Antonin, Bill Weasley and several others Lucius knew to be excellent curse breakers were working diligently on bringing down the wards to allow access to the grounds. For once the Resistance was confident in their approach. Even if one counted all of the staff, Death Eaters, and students within the school, they were still outnumbered over ten to one. Lucius hoped that even the Dark Lord wouldn't force terrified eleven year olds to pick up their wands to fight against them, but he knew the monster's tactics enough to know that even children were expendable. As he focused on keeping the invisibility shield up while the curse breakers worked, Lucius' mind wandered to his loved ones on the inside. He knew that Draco would be forced to fight against them and hoped that his son would be able to find a way to escape from the onslaught as soon as possible. He worried about Hermione. Where was she in the castle? Would she be harmed in the attack?

His gaze landed on Antonin for a brief second without hampering his concentration. There was an unspoken plan between the two of them that their first priority once inside would be to seek out Hermione. Every member of the Resistance had their specific duty and role planned out to the minutest detail. Theirs was to find the witch they both loved and do whatever was necessary to get her to safety. Though he would openly deny it with his dying breath, Lucius knew that he could rely on Antonin. Once this was over he didn't care to ever see the bastard again, but for this last raid, this last assault, he knew he could put his trust in Antonin to do what was best by Hermione. As much as he hated to admit it, Antonin had just as much right to go seeking after the woman carrying his child as Lucius had to seek out the woman he loved. It was a bitter potion to swallow.

"Keep the shields up!" shouted Bill Weasley. "We've almost got them!"

Moments after Bill's proclamation, the wards and enchantments surrounding Hogwarts Castle and its grounds began to crack. Bright, blue spider webs of energy burst out into the darkened midnight sky breaking the protections. Shouts could be heard from just outside the castle as the wards began to falter, but still no one could see who was doing it. Finally, with a roar that threatened to burst the ear drums of every person within ten miles of the location, the magical walls and the physical walls surrounding Hogwarts crumbled into a powdery dust.

The Invisibility shield was released at the last moment to reveal the full force of the Resistance and the Ministry headed straight for the inhabitants of the castle. With shouts of encouragements and shouts to remember the fallen from the last time they gathered on those grounds, the righteous might flooded the grounds.

The Second Battle for Hogwarts had begun.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty Three

The shriek of the intruder alarms blaring throughout the entire castle surprised Minerva McGonagall into an uncharacteristic panic. She was conversing with her best friend Poppy of over fifty years when both women were startled at the raucous noise. Since her arrival as the Transfiguration professor in 1956, she'd only heard the full-scale alarms sound twice before in her tenure. The first had been an accident during the First Wizarding War when several of the Ministry Aurors penetrated the grounds without permission seeking after known Death Eaters they had been tipped off were attempting to infiltrate the castle. Naturally the information was false, but the damage was limited as it happened during the summer holidays when all but a few key members of staff were gone for their holidays. The second time the intruder alarms sounded with such a ferocity was in May of 1998 when Lord Voldemort and his followers were successful in their attempts to attack and eventually control the beloved school.

Minerva couldn't imagine that anything positive would come from the third triggering of the alarms. Ceasing her conversation with Poppy regarding the treatment and care of Miss Hermione Granger until the time came when she was either released or they were forced to contend with yet another one of their former student's demises, Minerva rushed to the nearest window overlooking the gates. Miss Granger was already out of her bed despite the firm instructions both of the older women had given her.

"What is it, Minerva?" demanded Poppy, too terrified to rush to the window to see for herself.

"I'm not sure, Poppy," she answered. "I don't see anything."

"There's no one at the gates," added Hermione. "What does this mean, Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva could only shake her head and shrug her shoulders in response. She was at just as much a loss as they were. Poppy couldn't resist the temptation any longer and met the other two women at the same towering window. Though it was dark considering the time was midnight, the moonlight and the residual lights shining across the grounds from the interior of the castle illuminated the front gates. Minerva strained her eyes in an effort to see if there was any hint of strong magics being performed at the distance. Moments into her examination, they all gasped when the wards began to shatter. All three women were forced to cover their ears with their hands when the sound of the wards breaking roared around them.

Miss Granger was the first of them to notice the action going on in the grounds when the roaring finally started. She released a loud, shocked gasp and thrust her pointed finger out so swiftly that it hit the glass of the window. Poppy and Minerva gasped right along with her when they finally could see the thousands of gathered forces running at full speed towards the castle.

"How is that possible?" Miss Granger demanded of her former professor.

"I've heard of Invisibility Shields that can be held up to block the view of an approaching person or group, but I have _never_ seen it on such a scale. I wouldn't have believed it was possible."

Miss Granger was hopping up and down on her swollen feet, her belly pressed against the window. Realizing at once the significance of what was happening down on the grounds, the young witch was positively buzzing with excitement.

"This is it!" she shouted. "This is the end."

Immediately the overemotional pregnant women burst into tears. It took both Poppy and Minerva to get her settled back into her hospital bed. When Poppy tried to force her to drink another sleeping potion to calm herself, Miss Granger threw the vial across the room.

"If you think that I am going to allow you to drug me while _that_ is going on, Madam Pomfrey, than I fear you sorely underestimated me."

Minerva couldn't suppress an undignified chuckle at the girl. She gave her excuses to the other women in the room before rushing out the door of the infirmary. If the castle were truly under attack, her first priority was to get the students somewhere safe. Even if the Room of Requirement wasn't almost completely destroyed following that fool boy Vincent Crabbe's attempt at harnessing the power of fiendfyre, there simply would not have been enough time to get the hundreds of students out of the castle in the same manner they'd done almost two years earlier. The former Slytherin dormitory would be the safest place in the castle to hide the students until the ensuing battle was over. She ran across the castle raising the alarm and sending prefects and other members of staff to the scattered dormitories around the castle. She hoped that the battle would rage outside the walls of the castle long enough to give them an opportunity to move the students across the castle.

"Vector! Gather the third and fifth years in the old Ravenclaw Tower!" she ordered as she ran past the Arithmancy professor standing clad in her dressing gown and ridiculous carpet slippers. "Take them to the dungeons immediately!"

After decades of training on what to do in case of an emergency, Minerva McGonagall had plenty of experience in protecting her students. Once the initial alarms were raised it only took a few minutes before students from all years were lining up and running down the corridors and staircases to the safety of the dungeons. She ignored the shouts of the Death Eaters and other followers of He Who Must Not Be Named as they pushed their way through the crush of the students towards the front doors.

"You, boy, how old are you?" a large, beefy man in black robes demanded of a young wizard standing in a queue to the dungeon stairs.

"Thirteen, sir," he squeaked out, obviously petrified at being addressed directly by one of the Death Eaters.

"Then what the fuck are you doing standing around like a scared little puppy, man?!" the Death Eater demanded. "Grab your wand and get your arse outside!"

Minerva was just as shocked by the exchange as the terrified, young wizard who was being pushed into the heat of the battle was. She rushed over to the Death Eater, she really couldn't be expected to learn _all_ of their names after all.

"What is the meaning of that?" she demanded. "He's a child! He has no business in running outside to fight."

The Death Eater glared down at the incensed professor as if she were nothing more than an annoying mosquito buzzing around his ear.

"By order of the Dark Lord, _all_ students age thirteen years and older are to assemble in the Entrance Hall with their wands prepared to defend the castle!"

"Like Hell they are!" Minerva shouted. Not on her watch. There was simply no way she was going to allow innocent children to fight in a battle.

He ignored her and began to forcibly pull more students out of the line. They were almost all sobbing in complete fear. It was easy sometimes to forget that even in the harsh environment that her beloved Hogwarts had become since the murder of Harry Potter that there were still innocent children in their world. These children might have had their childhoods cut short by the serpentine overlord, but Minerva was going to be damned before she allowed them to be used as cannon fodder.

"ALL students continue to the dungeons," she shouted.

The Death Eater closed the distance between them in three annoyingly long strides. He used the back of his hand to slap the elderly woman across the face. Minerva had too much adrenaline running through her body at that moment to even be fazed by the act of violence on her person. She had her wand out and a _stupefy_ on the man before he could even blink. Cheers erupted all around her from the students.

"Down in the dungeons, _now_!" she screamed.

Minerva resorted to physically pushing the students from behind who were lagging on the stone steps. She made it to the door to the Slytherin Common Room in record time. With a quick spell the stones adjusted themselves to allow the students to enter the dormitory tucked safely underneath the Black Lake. When the last of the students in the first group were safely ensconced within the still green and silver decorated common room, Minerva ran back to the stairs as swiftly as her elderly legs would carry her. At the foot of the steps, Gary Goyle stepped in front of the woman. He had a murderous glint to his eye that would've frightened the woman if she hadn't already been terrified out of her wits to begin with. She'd been living in a constant state of fear for years.

" _Stupefy_!"

She didn't even have time to register the stunner coming straight for her chest before she crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

* * *

Hermione resented the mediwitch's interference. She had always liked Madam Pomfrey during her years at school, but now, she wished she'd never met the woman.

"I'm not sick or injured, Madam Pomfrey," she whined. There really was no other term to describe what she was doing. "Please let me help you."

Madam Pomfrey had a hand on Hermione's shoulder pushing her back to lie on the bed before she made much progress of leaving her imposed rest. With a frustrated huff, Hermione rolled over in the bed as much as her swollen body would allow her to and watched the battle down below on the grounds. Her wand hand positively itched to be down there throwing out curses and hexes. If she wasn't pregnant, she was certain she would be out there fighting. Of course if she weren't pregnant there was a good chance that she wouldn't have been kidnapped by Thorfinn Rowle the day the Ministry was retaken.

"You were in labor earlier, Miss Granger. If you are not careful, your child will be born early. Must I continue to repeat myself?"

"I can't just stay up here and do nothing."

"You have no choice. I will _not_ allow you to leave the ward. If somehow the fighting enters the ward, we will discuss your removal at that time and no sooner."

Her tone made it obvious that there would be no arguing with the intimidating school matron. Madam Pomfrey crossed the ward towards the storeroom where she stored all of the potions and supplies that she was sure would be needed before the night was over. Hermione asked if she could get out of bed to help her set up the ward and was rewarded with a sharp look and one more insistence that she remain in bed. When Madam Pomfrey was busy with her head in the stores cupboard, Hermione slipped out of bed long enough to slip her shoes on. It was hard to do without help at her advanced stage of pregnancy, but with her sheer determination, Hermione found the ability. She slipped back under the covers before the matron had any inclination what she had just done. If she was going to be stuck in bed for the duration of the battle, she was at least going to make certain that she would be able to make as swift a getaway as possible if necessary.

She reached into the front pocket of her dress. Her hand closed over the hateful piece of wood she'd stolen from Walden Macnair as he bled out on the ground of the Forbidden Forest from his head wound. She was thankful that no one had taken the wand from her when she was discovered. Being stuck in the midst of whatever was happening downstairs completely unarmed was unthinkable. She was exhausted of being helpless. Even knowing that Madam Pomfrey would not begrudge her the protection of the wand, Hermione waited until the witch slipped into the privacy of her office for a few minutes to test out the wand.

She tried not to dwell on the unthinkable crimes that had been committed with the piece of what she assumed was rowan wood. Macnair was one of the most disgusting and depraved of the Death Eaters. Dozens, at least, must have been murdered at the end of the wand. A foul, unnerving sensation ran up her wrist while testing the wand. It would work for her. She didn't doubt that, but like when she was forced to use Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, it would never be perfect. Trying to ignore the feeling running up her arm, Hermione stowed the stolen wand back in her pocket. Better a filthy wand than none at all.

Her attention was focused once again on the grounds. There was a great deal of activity. Stunners and what she feared were killing curses were flying across the darkened expanse. Red and green lights met in a hundred different duels. Even at the distance she could see that there were already many, many casualties of the altercation. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever deity might exist that only the cruel and evil would fall. She wondered how many people she knew were downstairs. No doubt a great many. If there were to be a rescue attempt in the middle of the battle, she felt certain that Lucius would be there. He had been vague with his messages from his house elf Tildie. Hermione knew her wizard well enough by now to know that he wouldn't let the opportunity to fight on her behalf pass him by. She desperately hoped that he would come flying through the door to the ward. Her eyes left the grounds and began to focus exclusively on the door on the other side of the ward.

* * *

There had been no question in Kingsley Shacklebolt's mind where he would be the moment the Battle for Hogwarts Part Two began. Despite having the illustrious honor of being named the Interim Minister for Magic, his place was on the front lines. He was the first of the wave of Resistance fighters and Ministry representatives to cross over into the grounds of the school. There of course, had been many who urged him to take a more tactical approach and hang back in the rear. That course of action might have been acceptable for Muggle generals in past wars, but he was never one to ask others to fight on his behalf while he remained relatively safe watching from behind. No, he was more like the kings of the past who actually led their troops into battle. A satisfied smirk crossed his mouth at the thought that he was finally living up to his name.

As Kingsley ran across the grounds shouting orders and curses, his thoughts wandered to a subject that was never far from his mind: Ryan. He was determined that no matter what happened to him that day, no matter if he lived or died, Ryan's sacrifice would not be in vain. The two wizards had been as close to what could be considered an old, married couple in their situation. He didn't give Circe's blasted left tit of a concern what others thought of their relationship. They'd loved each other with a passion that not everyone is blessed to find. If the war had not interrupted their lives, Kingsley was certain that they would've lived the rest of their unnaturally long, wizard lives together fighting over the front page of the Daily Prophet and who was going to clean up the breakfast dishes. He smiled to himself again. He would've loved every moment of that lifetime.

"Stun students only!" he shouted as he ran. "Stun students only!"

He couldn't believe the number of frightened students he had already seen sent out into the darkness to fight a man's battle. Poor students were crying all over the grounds. Several times he witnessed large adults kicking and punching at the terrified children, screaming at them to shut up and fight. This was not acceptable. This was not going to last. Kingsley was determined that they would win this fight. They would create a world that they could be proud of where children never had to fear that their lives would be thrown carelessly in a mob in an effort to protect the very scum of the earth.

A harsh green light flew past his ears. With a savage grin on his face that bore very little resemblance to the sweet beam he had thinking about the love of his life, Kingsley turned his wand in the direction of the offending killing curse. His auror instincts came to the forefront. The Death Eater attempting to hurl the curse back in his direction was dead before he could finish "avada". Kingsley spotted another knot of crying, frightened children huddled near the edge of the castle by the front door. There were four of them ranging in age from probably thirteen to sixteen years old. Kingsley shot a charm in their direction that surrounded them in silver light. An impenetrable bubble shield covered them. When the battle was over, someone would let them out. He couldn't stand for innocents to be hit by stray curses.

"Blast the door!" he ordered the moment the first wave reached the immense front door leading to the Entrance Hall. It pained him just a bit to make the order to attempt to blast the door, but all is fair in love and war as the Muggles say. " _Reducto_!"

* * *

Arthur Weasley stood outside the crumbled gates to Hogwarts for several minutes following the lowering of the shield. He and the other shield holders and curse breakers needed a short break to renew their energy and their magical stores. Rushing too quickly into the fray could be deadly if one weren't fully prepared. His eyes weren't as strong as they had been prior to his year long stint in the bowels of Azkaban and despite Lucius' repeated taunts that old men are supposed to wear glasses, he refused to wear lenses, but he could see well enough to tell that the fighters had made it to the outside of the castle.

"You all right, old man?" Lucius teased when he saw the pensive and worried look on Arthur's face.

Arthur assured him he was. Their friendship had probably been the oddest consequence of the loss of the Second Wizarding War two years earlier. Certainly neither man would've ever dreamed that there would come a day when they not only enjoyed each other's company, but actively sought it out. When they were setting up just outside of Hogsmeade to bring up the shield, Lucius made certain that he was standing next to his implausible friend. There was an unspoken desire between the two of them to fight next to each other. In the almost year since the Battle of Azkaban where their lives became permanently entwined after being forced to team up against Molly's Aunt Muriel, they had become closer friends than anyone, including themselves, could've imagined.

"Already more action than the Ministry," Arthur commented. He could slowly feel his reserves filling back up. Watching the younger wizard next to him, he could tell that Lucius was every bit as anxious to run off into the heart of the battle as Arthur was reluctant.

"Not concerned, are you?" Lucius asked, the teasing tone from earlier absent.

"I would be a fool if I wasn't. I have five children, one daughter-in-law, two future daughter-in-laws and one potential son-in-law involved directly in all of this. Not to mention Hermione stuck up inside the castle somewhere. Of course I'm concerned. The potential for someone I love to be injured or worse is exceptionally high."

His tone was gentle and Lucius understood his apprehension. Lucius placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"You Weasleys have always been a resilient group," Lucius replied. "Better wizards than the Dark Lord have tried to exterminate the lot of you and you all just keep surviving and replicating."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the jest and couldn't suppress a laugh. Already he began to feel a tiny bit more at ease with what was going on around him.

"I heard the news about Angelina," announced Lucius. "Congratulations, Arthur."

"Thank you. It was a bit of a surprise, but we couldn't be more pleased."

"Children and grandchildren are the reason why we are fighting this fight. They are our future and they deserve better than the mess we have left this world in."

Both men stared out across the grounds. Only mere minutes had passed since the shield had been dropped revealing their presence, but it seemed much longer. It's funny how time can start moving so slowly in battle and all at the same time it could feel like an eternity had passed.

"Hermione and I wanted to ask you something, Arthur," Lucius said. "This seems as good a time as any. I am certain she would not begrudge me the moment."

Arthur turned to focus his full attention on the blonde wizard.

"We wish to name you our son's godfather."

The rush of emotions inside of Arthur threatened to overwhelm him. He understood the significance of Lucius' request. Hermione once explained to him the role of the godfather and godmother in the Muggle world, but the role in wizarding society was a great deal more important. It was the ultimate sign of respect and love for the person who the honor was bestowed upon. Arthur could feel the threat of tears in the corner of his eyes and took a deep breath to prevent from shaming himself in front of the younger man.

"It would be my honor, Lucius. Thank you."

Lucius squeezed Arthur's shoulder and laughed.

"Hermione said that she considered asking you to be the god- _mother_ after all of your mother henning during her pregnancy, but she did not want to offend you."

Both men burst into laughter again.

"Lucius!"

Antonin Dolohov called out Lucius' name. He was as anxious to head out into the fray as Lucius.

"Go get our girl, Lucius." Arthur clapped Lucius on the back.

"Be careful, my friend," Lucius said before he ran off in the direction of the other wizard.

Arthur took a deep breath and continued to collect himself. He was reluctant to enter the grounds. The last time he was this close to the castle was the worst day of his life. He lost his Fred, his Ron and his Molly before he was carted off to Azkaban to face the dementors. The memory of the hated creatures still made him shudder. There was every chance that the end of this campaign could reveal even more losses for his family. Right now he knew that Charlie was already within the Forbidden Forest in an attempt to meet with the centaurs. Knowing that they had become restless and quite hostile to humans in the past several years, he worried about how his son would be treated. Charlie was a powerful wizard who daily faced the dangers of wild dragons, but he was still his little boy. He had every right to worry.

Thoughts of months of practice dueling with Lucius ran through his mind as he watched Lucius rush off into the darkness with Dolohov. He couldn't deny that he was prepared at least physically to continue the fight. Knowing that if he took much longer to prepare himself for action that he would be more likely to give up, Arthur took off running towards the castle. He tried to keep his mind clear of all thoughts related to anything other than taking out the damned Death Eaters. It was a surprise to him that at least four times before he reached the looming front door to the castle that Kingsley and his group had been able to blast off its hinges, that he was able to raise his wand and hex his enemies without much thought. Dueling with Lucius at the cottage strengthened his reflexes. He was certain he could engage in a duel without thinking about it too closely.

He was standing in the Entrance Hall before he even realized how far he'd run. Panting to catch his breath after the exercise, Arthur stood off to the side near where the former hourglasses for the Houses stood. Taking a quick survey of the room he could see dozens of injured and even dead lying on the stone. Outside he'd been able to look past the bodies in the darkness. Now with every lantern and sconce in the Hall alight, he couldn't ignore the devastation. He made a quick examination of the room searching for any hint of the famous Weasley red hair. To his great relief, he didn't see any.

The door to the Great Hall was hanging off of its hinges as well. He could see fierce duels inside. Thoughts of Molly completely engulfed him as he caught sight of the dais where she was murdered by Voldemort almost two years earlier. He didn't even try to hide the tears that were free flowing from his eyes. This was going to be an emotional return. He had known that from the very beginning. Hardly an hour went by when he wasn't plagued with memories of that hateful day. He missed his Mollywobbles every single moment of his day. She deserved more than to die an ignominious death at the hands of evil. Some days he struggled with the deep depression of a man who saw no reason to continue living his life. A lifetime without Molly was unthinkable. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Lucius multiple times during their confinement in Muriel's house.

 _"Our wives will never leave us, Arthur. They were both brave, beautiful women who deserved to live long, happy lives surrounded by their children and grandchildren. We can choose to be bitter that they died and we lived, but that would be the ultimate insult to their memories. Our gift to them is that we must continue to survive. We must continue to live on and fight for a world where our children and grandchildren are not forced to make the decisions their mothers and grandmothers made. Even if it kills us, we have to keep on. We have to live."_

He was going to be a wizard that his Molly would be proud of. Arthur ran towards the Great Hall, his wand outstretched and his thoughts consumed with the desire to create a better world.

* * *

"For the last time, Neville, I am _not_ going anywhere!"

Neville and Hannah Longbottom stood just outside the entrance to the castle in yet another argument. It didn't take a genius to tell that Mrs. Longbottom was winning.

"Please, Hannah. Please go home."

"Absolutely not, Neville! My place is here."

"It's too dangerous, love."

Hannah placed her hands on her hips in a scary imitation of Neville's formidable grandmother. Some days he wished that he hadn't been forced to leave Hannah alone with Augusta Longbottom for so long during her pregnancy. She had picked up on some scary, bad habits from the woman who raised him.

" _Everywhere_ we go is too dangerous with _Him_ still alive! Do you think that you or your family will ever be safe as long as he survives?"

"Please, Hannah. Think of Frank."

"I _am_ thinking of Frank, Neville Longbottom! Every single moment of the day I think about our son. I don't want to raise him in this world. I _will not_ raise him in a world where he is forced to constantly live in fear or I'm going to die trying!"

She kissed him forcefully once more, effectively cutting off the argument once and for all. Without another glance behind her at her husband, she ran off into the darkness around the side of the castle. Neville could see several stunners flying from her wand as she ran. _She really is one hell of a woman_.

When Hannah disappeared from his view, Neville turned his attention towards the castle ahead. The cacophonous sounds of the battle raging within was responsible for the twist in his stomach. He knew what he had to do. Every Resistance member had a job to do. Percy Weasley had insisted that not a single person enter the grounds of Hogwarts without a thorough understanding of what their role would be in the final battle. Even knowing what his role was didn't make Neville any less nervous.

He took another deep breath and ran inside the Entrance Hall. His feet were on the Grand Staircase before he registered where he was. Courage was fleeting. If he stopped for a moment to dwell on the monumental task ahead of him, he'd never make it. It was a long run to the Headmaster's Office after all.

* * *

Draco was leading his third group of students down to the safety of the Slytherin Common Room. Years of wandering the castle after curfew gave him a thorough understanding of secret passageways through the dungeons. He'd been able to lead many more students to safety without running in to a single Death Eater. Naturally he had been reluctant to enter into any fighting at all. Despite the damned mark on his left arm, he refused to take up arms and fight next to the Death Eaters. Rushing out in the midst of the Resistance wasn't a smart plan either. Too many opportunities for a stray curse to hit him from someone who wasn't aware what side he actually fought on.

When the last of the third group were safely locked up in the Common Room, he ran towards the main dungeon stairs. Someone had extinguished all of the sconces along the darkened corridor. He ran full speed towards the stairs and ended up falling on his face when his foot caught on something on the floor. Injuring nothing more serious than his pride, Draco lit his wand with a Lumos spell. He gasped when he saw the unconscious form of Minerva McGonagall underneath his feet.

"Professor?!"

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to feel a pulse. For a moment he was afraid the curse that had hit her was one of a more permanent nature. He pointed his lit wand at her chest and whispered the counter curse to the stun. Minerva gasped for air immediately. She sat up so quickly in the dark that she and Draco bumped heads with a _clang_.

"Are you all right, Professor?" Draco asked trying to ignore the shooting pain in his head.

"Yes, I believe so."

Minerva glanced around the darkened corridor. She waved her wand to light all of the sconces.

"Where are all of the students?" she asked.

"I've been able to get most of them into the Slytherin Common Room."

He rose to help the elderly witch to her feet.

"Good. Thank you. I'm not sure how long I was out. What's happening upstairs?"

"You must not have been out very long, Professor. It's hardly gotten started."

"Please return to the Common Room, Mr. Malfoy. Protect the students."

"Yes, Professor."

Minerva McGonagall was up the stairs and out into the Entrance Hall in mere moments. Draco turned around to run back to the entrance to his former Common Room. Protecting the students was exactly the right course of action for him. If everything worked out to his advantage, the fighting would stay upstairs.

His thoughts drifted towards the action upstairs. While he wasn't exactly anxious to rush out into the middle of it, he longed for it to be over. He'd been able to see the gathered forces of the Resistance when their shield was lowered. It was his night to patrol the castle for rule breakers. The moment the alarms sounded he'd rushed to the window. Draco had never considered himself a positive, optimistic man, but even he couldn't suppress a smile at the thought that this could very well be the night that the world would change again. He longed to see Luna again. She was the one bright spot in his life for many terrible months. If anyone had told him when they were still students at Hogwarts that one day he would not only have a beautiful son with her, but that he would one day fall absolutely, irretrievably in love with Loony Lovegood, he probably would've hexed them. The thought was ridiculous. Though with the benefit of hindsight, he wished he could go back in time and expand his social circle. He might have been able to save her from her damned Gryffindor friends and kept her out of the Umbridge Home. Not to mention he would've had just that much more time to spend with her.

"Hey, Malfoy!"

An unwelcome voice from down the corridor broke him out of his reverie. His thoughts of Luna and Xeno had been too pleasant to last. Draco turned to face the panting form of Gary Goyle. The elder wizard struggled to catch his breath as he rushed towards the outside of the common room.

"How many students you have inside there?" he demanded.

"Why?"

"The Dark Lord ordered that all students aged thirteen and over should be out fighting."

Imagining scared thirteen year old witches out in the middle of the fighting made Draco sick to his stomach. That was way too young!

"It's just the youngest ones," he lied. "Rowle already told me before I started gathering them up."

Goyle tried to open the stone door. Draco placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"You don't believe me?" Draco demanded.

"Sorry, Malfoy. Dark Lord's orders. He wants to make sure none of the little toerags are hiding."

Goyle tried once again to push past Draco to open the door. Despite the fact that Goyle was a much larger wizard than Draco could ever hope to be, Draco used all of his strength to pull the older wizard away from the door. Caught off guard by the unexpected assault on his body, Goyle didn't even struggle. He fell hard to the ground. Before he could remove his wand from his pocket to aim it at the young wizard, Draco shot a stunner straight to his chest. Goyle smashed the back of his head on the stone floors. Disgusted by the sudden amount of blood on the floor, Draco banished Goyle's unconscious form to a hidden alcove down at the end of the corridor. With a quick _evanesco_ the blood disappeared.

Draco resumed his guard of the Common Room door. It was going to take a lot more than an ineffective meathead like Goyle to get him to abandon the innocent students to the darkness above.

* * *

George stood outside of the Hog's Head pub with his fiancée Angelina. The preparations for the assault on Hogwarts were already under way. He could see the hundred or so witches and wizards chosen to cast the shield already getting into place. Dozens of Death Eaters, Snatchers and otherwise nasty people were stunned or dead all around them. The Battle for Hogwarts wouldn't have been possible without a short Battle for Hogsmeade first. George had been reluctant to allow Angelina anywhere near the fighting, but she wasn't exactly a woman he could order about. It was one of the parts about her he loved most.

"I wish I was going with you," Angelina said, her bottom lip stuck out in the most adorable pout. George had to resist the urge to take it between his teeth in front of everybody.

"I'm glad you are staying right here," he replied. His hand brushed against her still-flat stomach. "It's more important that you stay out of harm."

"As if I weren't living on the edge of danger every single second I'm with you, George Weasley."

They both laughed. There wasn't any denying her words.

"This child will be born with skin as thick as a dragon's and the ability to pester the hell out of me before it's even an hour old," she continued. "Surely it will be safe enough for me to come with you."

"Absolutely not!" Very few people existed in the world that had seen George this serious. There was no way he was going to allow his future wife and his unborn child to rush off into danger. "You will stay right here with the healers and help with any wounded."

Angelina sighed.

"You know I don't like it when you get all alpha male and order me about."

"That's definitely not what you say in the dark of our bedroom, love."

She ignored his comment to wrap her arms around the man once more. The days leading up to what everyone was certain would be the final battle had been tense. They'd been unable to keep their hands off each other. Not to mention their lips. An unspoken fear existed between them. Angelina's pregnancy was only about two months along. She wished that they could've put the miracle of childbearing off a few more months so she didn't have to be separated from the man she longed to spend the rest of her life with. It was a happy accident. Welcome, but just inconvenient enough to make her unhappy. The thought of standing in Hogsmeade with no clue what he was up against made her angry and her stomach churn. She was a woman of action. Sitting at home wasn't for her.

"Please be careful, Georgie."

"Please don't worry about me."

"Fat chance of that."

"I will be fine. I will be back here pestering you before you even notice I'm gone."

"You better be!"

"And if I'm not…"

Angelina placed her hand over George's mouth. She didn't want to hear anything negative. He took her hand in his and pulled it off of his face.

"And if I'm not, you will be taken care of. You and the baby."

"George, please…"

"No, it needs to be said, Angie. If I don't come back, I want you to move on. I want you to find some bloke who will make you _almost_ as happy as I would've made you. Someone who will love our child as his own."

"George…" Fat tears rolled down her beautiful cheeks.

"I've already put the business in your name. Doesn't mean so much now, but once the war is over, you will be provided for. My vault is in your name now as well. I had Lee purchase a small house in Arizona for you in case it's not safe for you to remain. I don't want you living in Britain if it's not safe."

"George…"

"If the baby is a boy, please name him Fred. I don't want him named after me. You yell my name enough as it is. I'd rather you associate the yells with pleasure instead of anger."

He winked at his fiancée and she couldn't keep herself from laughing in the tense moment. George wiped the tears from her face with his hand.

"If the baby is a girl, name her after your sister Roxanne. I wish I could've known her, but everything you've ever said about her, she was a wonderful witch. Our daughter will definitely need a positive role model to look up to. I can't imagine anyone being better than Fred or Roxanne."

George pulled Angelina's crying form into his arms once more. With a final kiss on the lips he could kiss until he died, he mounted his broom and sped off towards the castle. He arrived just as the wards were breaking. There were about a hundred other fliers on their brooms circling the castle. At the crumbling of the walls, George and his comrades took off racing towards the towers.

* * *

Lucius ran towards Antonin the moment he ended his conversation with Arthur. The dark haired wizard was anxious to get moving. If he had been allowed to, the moment the wards were broken, Antonin would've run off towards the castle immediately. Bill Weasley had to restrain the man to keep him from running off before he could defend himself.

"My house elf told me that Hermione is staying in Severus' old quarters in the dungeons," Lucius said to Antonin as they started the long walk to the castle. "I will head there to see if she is there."

"All right," Antonin agreed. "I will go to the hospital ward. She might be in there."

"What do we do when we find her?"

Antonin glared at Lucius like he was an idiot.

"We get her the fuck out of the castle, Lucius. Immediately."

Any other questions Lucius might have had were cut short by Antonin's abrupt departure. He ran like a man possessed towards the castle. Despite the excellent shape he always tried to keep himself in, Lucius was unable to catch up with the wizard. Not that it mattered. One of them, he was certain, would find Hermione.

He didn't even have to fight his way into the castle. Most of the figures wandering around the Entrance Hall were Resistance members and Ministry officials taking stock of the casualties. Lucius took a moment to search the collapsed bodies for the familiar shock of red Weasley hair. Pleased that he didn't see any, he ran towards the dungeons. He met no one down in the dungeons until he reached the Slytherin common room.

"Father!"

Draco and Lucius met in the middle of the corridor in one of the warmest embraces they had ever shared. They were not the most demonstrative of people before the war, but the changes that both men had experienced with their new witches had bled over into their relationship as well. Lucius was relieved to see his son whole and safe.

"Are you all right, Father?" Draco asked as he swept over his father's form with his eyes looking for any visible wounds.

"I am fine, Draco. Where is Hermione? Is she still in Severus' old rooms?"

Draco shook his head and wished he didn't have to give the news he had to.

"She collapsed this afternoon at the edge of the forest."

"The forest? What was she doing in the forest?" Lucius tried not to panic.

"Macnair took her there for a unicorn hunt."

Lucius struggled to catch his breath. Alone in the Forbidden Forest with Walden Macnair? And then she collapsed?

"Is she all right?" He grabbed the lapels of Draco's robes with more force than he meant to. His son was sympathetic.

"She's all right, Father. I was able to carry her to the hospital ward. Poppy has been taking care of her."

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"She went into labor," Draco continued. "Poppy was able to stop it, but she insisted she stay up there."

"Antonin is headed up there right now. He will probably get there soon."

"Dolohov? Why the fuck are you letting him near her, Father?"

He really didn't want to have this argument with his son. Mostly because he had no clue how he could possibly answer that question. Part of him wasn't even sure why he was willing to allow Antonin near his witch.

"Long story, Draco. It is complicated. Are you all right down here?"

"I'm keeping the students protected. The Dark Lord is trying to make them all fight."

"Good. Please be careful, son."

Lucius embraced his son once more before turning around the run towards the hospital ward.

* * *

Thorfinn Rowle took his eyes off of the wizard he was dueling for half a second. Usually he was focused enough to keep his complete attention on the task at hand. It was easy to get yourself killed if you weren't completely focused on the task at hand, especially when the task was defending yourself from poncy little Ministry gits who had just enough talent and experience in dueling to get themselves hurt. The moment of inattention was just enough to catch a glimpse of Antonin Dolohov running past them in the corridor. Thorfinn wasted no time in taking out the wizard fighting him. He rushed off in the direction that he witnessed Antonin disappear in. Thorfinn had an excellent idea where his former partner might be, but he had to be certain.

* * *

The Grand Staircase was too dangerous. Too many combatants were fighting on the large staircase despite the tendency of the stairs to move. Antonin saw at least three people from both sides fall off the moving staircase when trying to run from their opponent. He didn't want to get caught up in an unnecessary duel if he could avoid doing so.

"Forget what side you were on, Dolohov?" shouted Crabbe on the staircase somewhere up near the third floor. The Death Eater sent a curse flying down at Antonin that he just barely escaped.

Antonin ignored the taunts from several more of his former comrades fighting on the staircase. When he reached the second floor, he took off running into a side corridor. Unfortunately his tendency to get into trouble when he was in school meant that he knew multiple ways to get to the hospital wing on the fourth floor. It might take a little bit longer to reach using the side passages, but at least he would be less likely to run into someone who wanted him dead. His priority was to find Hermione, damn the effort.

Several uneventful minutes later Antonin was on the fourth floor. He was more than a little surprised by the fact that he had met with no resistance once he exited the grand staircase. Always made him nervous when things seemed too easy. Very little in his life had been easy. The door to the infirmary loomed ahead of him at the end of the corridor. Antonin increased the pace of his steps.

He didn't hear the lumbering footsteps behind him. His focus wasn't what it should have been. All he could think of was the possibility that Hermione might be on the other side of that door. Antonin pushed on the door, a flash of light buzzed past his head. He was inside the hospital ward in moments. Antonin closed the door and set several intricate locking charms on the door to prevent whomever it was trying to curse him outside in the corridor.

Antonin turned around when he heard a gasp from the other side of the room. He crossed the room at top speed, all thoughts of narrowly missing a curse to his head moments earlier forgotten. Hermione rose from her bed in all of her awkward, clumsy, pregnant splendor. Antonin almost forgot to breathe. He was certain he had never seen anyone look so beautiful. His arms were around the sobbing witch in moments.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked after a few seconds of holding the young witch to his chest. She was still crying but she pushed back to wipe the tears from her face.

"I'm sorry, Antonin. I'm just relieved. Are you here to take me out of the castle?"

He wasn't a complete idiot even if being in her presence always made his mind go a bit fuzzy. Antonin knew she was disappointed he was the one who opened the door to her refuge. It was written all over her face that she wished he was another wizard, a wizard he knew to be down in the dungeons that very moment.

"Yes, I am. Lucius is down in the dungeons looking for you."

He tried to ignore the sudden pain in his stomach he felt after seeing her eyes light up at the sound of Lucius' name. He could live five hundred more years and it wouldn't hurt any less that she didn't want him. Antonin dropped his arms from around her shoulders before stepping back a couple of steps. Hermione must have realized what his problem was because she was crying again and her face was blushing a furious red.

"We've got to figure out a way out of here," Antonin said. "I blocked the main door. Someone was attacking me."

Poppy Pomfrey chose that moment to emerge from the confines of her private office with her arms full of potion vials. Seeing the once familiar countenance of Antonin Dolohov standing in her infirmary with her only patient surprised her enough to drop everything she was holding in her arms. When that was coupled with the obvious attempts someone else was making to burst into her ward, Madam Pomfrey was at a loss how to proceed.

"Is there another way out, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, ignoring the shocked expression of the matron. "We can't use the main door."

"Absolutely not, Miss Granger! You are in no condition to leave this room."

Antonin placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder when the woman began to cry again. Hermione surprised them all by pulling a wand from the inside of her dress and aiming it at the mediwitch. With a nonverbal incantation, Madam Pomfrey's wand flew across the room.

"I'm very sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but I simply don't have time to argue with you right now."

Hermione could be a bit scary when she was passionate. Antonin felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile he tried to repress. He remembered being on the receiving end of her temper a few times while they lived together in his cottage. He would've gladly placed himself in front of her fury for a lifetime.

"You are not well, Miss Granger! You remember what I told you about stress."

"What did she say to you about stress, _dara_ … _Hermione_?"

"Miss Granger was in labor earlier today, Mr. Dolohov," Madam Pomfrey replied. "I was able to stop the labor, but I informed her that if she experienced any amount of stress she would have her baby."

Antonin stared down at a sheepish Hermione. She was obviously embarrassed by her behavior and perhaps a bit worried about their baby. He couldn't blame her for her desire to leave the castle.

"Hermione, you and the baby are too important to put at risk."

"Bullshit, Antonin! I'm fine. I will _not_ stay in this castle any longer than I have to. Please, Madam Pomfrey, is there another way to leave?"

Another loud bang on the door shook all three of them. Whoever was intent on entering the ward was well on their way to success. Antonin took Hermione's hand in his and began to pull her down the ward carefully towards the matron's private office.

"There's a hidden passageway in my quarters," Madam Pomfrey answered, sighing loudly in frustration. "Just past my office. Push the bookcase in my sitting room to the left. The passage will lead you to the first floor courtyard."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione replied.

She became the one to pull Antonin down the ward next.

"Mr. Dolohov, please promise me that you will get Miss Granger to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Your little wizard is anxious to make his appearance in the world."

With a smile he couldn't remove from his face and promises of dragging Hermione to the hospital by her hair if necessary, Antonin and Hermione entered the matron's private office and then her private quarters. The rooms were smaller than Professor Snape's had been. It didn't take long to find the bookshelf she described. Antonin released Hermione's hand long enough to open the secret passage. He ushered her through the hole in the wall before following her and closing the passage behind him.

"Come on, Antonin," she said, anxiously looking over her shoulder when he wasn't right behind her. "I want out of this place."

Antonin followed behind her down a narrow staircase. When they reached the ground floor, Antonin blocked the exit. Hermione seemed frustrated by his cessation in movement. She tried to push him away from the door.

"Calm down, Hermione," he begged. "We need to take a moment for you to calm yourself. I'm not sure what we are going to find once we step outside of this passage."

Hermione couldn't really argue with him, but he could see the gleam in her eye that showed she wanted to. With a dramatic sigh, Hermione leaned up against the wall to take a deep breath. Her hands moved to rest on her swollen belly. Antonin watched her caress her bump with a transfixed expression that made her laugh. Without a warning, Hermione placed Antonin's free hand on her stomach.

"I can feel him moving!" Antonin exclaimed. Hermione giggled at his reaction.

"Yes, and he hasn't stopped moving since you came bursting into the ward," she laughed. "Normally he is pretty calm, but this has been an exciting evening. He must like the sound of your voice."

Antonin placed both of his hands on the bump. He could _feel_ his son moving within his mother's womb. It was an experience he never expected to have in his entire life. He had so many questions for her, so much he wanted to whisper into her belly, but their time together was too short. He had to get her somewhere safe.

"I'm going to look out this door," he explained. "If it's not safe to exit, we will wait."

Waiting suddenly no longer became an option. Shouts sounded from the top of the staircase they just ran down. Obviously whoever was trying to attack Antonin had been able to break into the hospital ward and follow them into the secret passageway. Antonin pushed her bulky frame behind his before raising his wand.

"Nowhere to run, Antonin!"

They both flinched at the sound of Thorfinn Rowle's voice ahead of them. Remembering that the man promised to make her pay for taunting him during her attempted rape, Hermione began to shake with both fear and fury. This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when he said he would make her pay, but it was frightening nonetheless.

"Did you tell your boyfriend about our _encounter_ in your bed, Princess?"

Rowle's taunts continued to filter down the staircase. His voice was getting louder. Antonin felt his body tense when he heard the man's words. What did he mean? He wanted to turn around to view Hermione's expression, but it wasn't safe. He needed to keep his focus ahead.

"Don't worry, Antonin. Your frigid bitch didn't do it for me. Not sure what you ever saw in her. Couldn't even keep it up long enough to fuck her."

Antonin felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. He appreciated the gesture. Rowle was closer, perhaps another story or so away. He was taking his time descending the staircase. A large piece of stone came flying down the staircase, shocking them both. Antonin's reflexes were strong enough that he was able to destroy the stone before it landed anywhere near them. He threw up a strong shield charm to block Rowle from being able to descend the staircase any further.

"You have to go on ahead, Hermione. I will keep him busy."

"I can't leave you here alone," she protested.

"He will just keep following. I will take care of him, but I can't have you here when I do so. It will be dangerous."

"And stepping out into the courtyard by myself won't be dangerous?"

"There are Resistance members swarming the grounds. You will be all right. Lucius is searching for you. He can take you away from the battle."

Antonin turned away from her to focus on throwing up another shield. Rowle's angry voice was carrying. It was obvious he was closer. Hermione forced Antonin to turn back around to face her.

"Thank you, Antonin… for everything."

She pulled his head down to meet her lips in a fierce kiss. Antonin was taken aback for a moment at the contact, but soon got over his surprise. The kiss itself couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds. Antonin managed to pull a lifetime from those moments. She stepped back from him and disappeared through from the passage.

"How romantic."

Thorfinn blasted through the shield charms. His angry, taunting expression was the last thing Antonin saw before his head crashed into the stone wall behind him and his world went dark.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty Four

Over forty years as a Hogwarts professor had given Minerva McGonagall the opportunity to learn almost all of the secret passages that the old castle had to offer. She was certain that she knew more about the hidden rooms and corridors than even the Weasley twins or the Gryffindors of the seventies ever figured out. This knowledge was a lifesaver in the midst of a castle in crisis. She'd been able to visit all of the dormitories to ensure that there were no longer any students hidden in the towers without running into a single combatant. There had been some close calls, naturally, but nothing a reflexive shield charm couldn't stop.

"Run down this corridor, Donahue. It will take you to a portrait of a dancing monk. Tell him that I sent you. He will let you pass. Keep running until you see Mr. Malfoy. He'll let you into the common room."

The frightened third year nodded in response. His wide, tear-filled eyes tugged at Minerva's heartstrings, but he wasn't the only student likely still stuck in the crossfire. And at Donahue's age, any Death Eater who crossed his path was most likely going to grab him by his collar and throw him to the wolves with a stiff kick to the arse. She stood in the secret passage with her hands on her hips waiting for the petrified boy to take off running. It took her physically pushing him in the back to get his frozen legs moving. When she could no longer see him in the dim passage, she kept moving.

The conditions of the Unbreakable Vow she was forced to make with Lord Voldemort before he would allow her back into the castle as a professor when the battle was lost two years earlier meant that she couldn't actively participate in any activity that would aid the Resistance in bringing about the bastard's death. Unfortunately, the broad spectrum of the Vow meant that she could be in trouble doing something as simple as allowing a Resistance member to cross the threshold of a door in front of her. That was another reason she was sticking close to the hidden ways. Her priority was to keep as many of her students safe as possible. Even the Dark Bloody Lord couldn't accuse her of aiding the Resistance when all she was doing was performing the duties required of her as the Deputy Headmistress of her school.

Naturally she had been reluctant to make any sort of deal with the devil. It didn't take her long to realize that if she weren't in the castle she would be leaving the innocent students open to the depravities of the Death Eaters. She was a woman of the world. She understood all too well what kind of atrocities those minions of evil had been performing on poor, blameless young women since their inception. Her conscience simply would not allow leaving the innocent school children at the mercy of known torturers and rapists. Of course she had requested her own condition in the Vow from the bastard known as He Who Must Not Be Named.

 _"Will you, Lord Voldemort, promise that no student, male or female, will be sexually assaulted while your Death Eaters are stationed inside this school?"_

 _"I will."_

It had given her the tiniest amount of pleasure to see everyone in the room, the Dark Lord himself, flinch when she dared to address him by his name. She would've loved to have gone as far as Albus would've dared and called him Tom Riddle, but she was certain that any amount of disrespect approaching that level on her part would've resulted in the Unbreakable Vow becoming moot and her death being instantaneous. Living in a world where the vow to prevent sexual molestation of children wasn't required had become her dream. Maybe one day. Maybe that day had finally appeared.

Shouts and screams of curses and hexes flooded her ears. Minerva peered out a peephole cleverly hidden by a suit of armor. Her heart jumped when she caught sight of Neville Longbottom trapped in a desperate duel with a Death Eater she was certain she once failed in Transfiguration. His name, however, escaped her. She wanted to aid the young Gryffindor. Even though teachers are not supposed to have their favorites, she had always had a soft spot for the young Longbottom. While she might have been firm with him from the very beginning, she had always been fond of the sweet faced boy. Just as she had been fond of both of his parents when they were students. His grandmother Augusta had been a good friend. It had warmed Minerva's heart when Augusta finally started showing Neville how proud of him she really was.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

The Killing Curse missed Longbottom by inches. Minerva was unable to stifle the gasp that escaped from her mouth at the sight. Longbottom was simply spurred on to further action when his death was averted. In a rather impressive flick of his wand, he had the Death Eater stunned and bound before the man could even prepare himself for another curse. Neville took a moment to be proud of himself before his smirk changed to an expression of fear. Voices could be heard only feet away.

" _Will you Minerva McGonagall, swear that you will provide no aid to any members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army or the Resistance?"_

" _I will."_

She really shouldn't have done it, but she couldn't bear to see another young life snuffed out before its prime. Without giving the consequences another thought, Minerva pushed open a secret panel to the wall. Neville was close enough that with a quick grab of the back of his collar she was able to pull him inside the hole in the wall. The hole closed before the group of Death Eaters and seventh year trainees arrived a few moments later.

"Professor!" Neville exclaimed.

She placed a finger over her lips to indicate that he needed to be silent.

" _Will you, Minerva McGonagall, vow to prevent any and all threats to the Dark Lord that you become aware of?"_

" _I will."_

Neville looked around the passage eagerly. His shock at being suddenly stuck in the dark hidden corridor with his daunting Transfiguration professor was temporarily forgotten.

"Professor, is there a hidden entrance to the Headmaster's office I don't know about? The gargoyle is refusing to open the staircase and now the corridor in front of it is swarming with Death Eaters."

"What do you need in the Headmaster's Office, Longbottom?"

"To finish what Harry started two years ago."

There was no need for further explanation. Minerva grasped Longbottom's upper arm and led him down the passageway. At the end of the passage there was a statue of a gargoyle that was identical to the public entrance to the office.

"Follow the gargoyles, Longbottom. They will take you through a secret entrance."

Neville's enthusiasm was evident. A bright smile crossed his handsome face that even Minerva was powerless not to return. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, Longbottom. I am _very_ proud to call you one of my own."

Neville surprised the elderly witch by pulling her thin frame into a crushing bear hug. They broke apart several seconds later. His face was lit up in another smile and her cheeks were flushed. With a final rakish wink to his former Head of House, Neville Longbottom took off running towards the gargoyle. Minerva watched him go for a few seconds before she collapsed to the stone floor and breathed her last.

* * *

The Great Hall was finally under the complete control of the Resistance and the Ministry just a short time after Kingsley and his fighters arrived. It seemed most of the Dark's soldiers were scattered in various parts of the castle. Kingsley wanted the Great Hall secured by the Resistance as quickly as possible to give them a large area to keep captives and treat the wounded. It was also the rendezvous point for the various factions within the castle. Because every single person knew what their job was before the walls had even crumbled, they were all expected to return to the Great Hall for further orders once their initial task was complete. It was supposed to keep the chaos and uncertainty amongst the ranks to a minimum. If Kingsley continued to be the Minister for Magic when this was all over, he had plans to make certain that Percy Weasley became the next Head of the Department for Magical Cooperation. He had a good head for organization and keeping the troops in line. Those skills would be invaluable while dealing with other Ministries across the world post-war.

"Kingsley, we have the Entrance Hall secured," Arthur Weasley announced.

"Excellent, Arthur. Are you injured?"

The elder wizard shook his head to indicate he was fine. Kingsley suspected that he was mildly injured based on the blood he could see running down the side of his head, but seeing as how he had almost an identical wound to the Weasley patriarch, he really was in no condition to chastise him for it. Both men were still on their feet and still seemed to be in excellent health. No sense worrying where there was no need.

"Arthur, will you take a group out to the courtyard at the base of the Hospital tower? Most of the fighters we kicked out of here were headed there."

"Certainly, Kings. Where will you be going next?"

Kingsley laughed at Arthur's impertinence. They both were aware that Percy's plan was that once the Minister was safely inside the Great Hall he was supposed to remain there to coordinate the rest of the battle. It was an argument that Kingsley had had repeatedly with the third Weasley son. To finally get the young wizard to shut his annoying, pretentious mouth, Kingsley agreed to remain in the Great Hall until the battle was complete. His _real_ plan, however, was to clear the way to the Headmaster's office with several of his most trusted comrades.

"I'm going to go help clear out the corridor in front of the Headmaster's Office. Neville will be needing some help."

Arthur wished him good luck before rushing off towards the courtyard with several younger witches and wizards trailing behind him. Kingsley headed towards the Grand Staircase with his own troops. He was going to give Neville as much of a chance as possible to finally fulfill that damned prophecy that started all of their troubles so many years earlier.

* * *

George's role in the battle was deceptively simple. He and the other fliers were to use their brooms to fly to the tops of the towers and enter the castle from above. The goal was to move all of the dark forces further and further down the castle until they were met with the full force of the Resistance. It amounted to nothing more than herding cows to slaughter or rounding up sheep for shearing. Using their wands to send mild offensive spells towards their prey, they were to encourage the arseholes to take off running down the stairs. Simple enough.

He had been hoping for a bit more action than just flying his broom up to the top of the Astronomy tower. Even the thought of being able to fly his broom through the corridors without fear of detentions with Filch only made the appeal of his mission slightly attractive. The last time he'd fought in a battle at his old school he'd been right in the thick of the dueling. It was empowering and exciting. Percy claimed that he wanted George as a flier because of his extensive Quidditich skills. George wasn't fooled. He knew that his older brother was trying to keep him as much out of the fighting as possible. They both still struggled with memories of the day they witnessed Fred's death. George knew his brother loved him and only wanted to keep him safe. It would've been sweet if it hadn't been so damned frustrating.

George met with little resistance when he entered the Astronomy tower on his broom. There were a handful of students too young to start shaving attempting to keep the tower clear. Kingsley was certain that You Know Who would force students to defend the castle. For the past two weeks the Minister's mantra seemed to be "Stun students only". George must have heard it a hundred times. He was reluctant to stun even those shaking and scared kids, but it really was for their own good. With several waves of his wand the students cowering on the tower all collapsed around him. He used his wand to throw the doors to the interior of the castle open.

There were already dozens of fliers in the corridor when he finally burst inside. He had a couple of close calls with some of the former members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but his reflexes as an athlete came in handy. They all flew down the corridors shooting curses at those on the ground foolish enough to stop running for the stairs. It didn't take long at all before their level was clear and it was time to head to the next. George foolishly expected that the next hallway would be just as simple to clear out as the first. Unfortunately for the Resistance, the call to arms had been raised on the lower levels. George was able to hover in the air for only a few seconds before a hex hit him right in the chest. As he began his plummet to the ground, his thoughts were exclusively on that feisty, gorgeous witch he'd left behind in Hogsmeade.

* * *

He couldn't resist delivering a swift kick to the fallen man's body when he reached the bottom of the narrow staircase. Thorfinn glared down at his former partner. The curse he shot in his direction caught him off guard. Antonin's focus had obviously been wrapped up on the filthy Mudblood whore. The old man should've known by now that all it takes is a split second of inattention and you're dead.

Thorfinn leaned down to check the pulse on the stricken wizard. It was there, just barely, but without proper medical attention he likely wouldn't be alive much longer. And seeing as how he was lying in the bottom of a secret passageway that few, if any, would be walking into any time soon, the man was as good as dead. Good riddance. He'd been an arsehole to him on more occasions than he could remember. Willing to throw him under the bus for the slightest infraction when questioned by the Dark Lord. Already the world was better without the stink of Dolohov permeating it. His head wound was serious. Thorfinn couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all. One of the best duelers he'd ever known, capable of performing dangerous, custom curses that left those affected dying in slow, delicious agony and he was brought down by a bump on his large head. Tragic, really.

He laughed to himself as he pushed the secret door open to the courtyard. Without Dolohov breathing down his neck in an attempt to protect his bastard son and the bitch that carried it, his revenge would be a hell of a lot easier to complete. Once outside in the confines of the courtyard he took a quick look around. There was a lot of activity in the opposite corner of the courtyard, but where he was located there was very little going on. A figure moving in the darkness near a large hedge caught his eye. He laughed again to himself. _Didn't manage to get very far, did you, Princess?_

Thorfinn stalked up behind the pregnant witch hiding in the hedge. No doubt she was standing there waiting for her precious Antonin or her beloved Lucius to find her. What was so special about her anyway that two men like that were tripping over themselves to have her? He'd seen what she had underneath that dress. Yeah, it was nice, but not _that_ nice. Not nice enough to switch sides in the bloody war. He was mildly convinced that the bitch was an expert at love potions. How else could you explain it?

Her attention was focused on the activity happening on the opposite end of the courtyard to his benefit. Thorfinn was able to slip behind her without her awareness. Without a word to the Mudblood, he placed his large hands on her hips.

"Oh, Antonin, thank Merlin!"

The moment she turned around and made eye contact with the wrong Death Eater, she screamed. He wasn't ready to advertise her position just yet. A massive hand covered her little mouth. Her eyes reminded him of a helpless bunny with its foot stuck in a trap. She knew she was screwed. Knew that if he was the one touching her that it wasn't likely she had a savior nearby.

"I realized my mistake the other day, Princess," he whispered into the mess of bushy curls he couldn't believe she hadn't spelled off in a fit of rage already. "I should've used a silencing spell. That would've solved all of our problems."

She tried to bite him.

"Bitch!" He tore his hand off her mouth and took his own advice. " _Silencio_!"

Hermione continued to try to scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Thorfinn couldn't help but feel a little excited by the tears streaming down her face. Between what she did to him in London at the beginning of the war and then what she did to him down in the dungeons when she spoke of his sister without permission, he had hours and hours, possibly days of payback planned for her. Amazing how the sight of her know-it-all mouth open but unable to make a sound made his trousers tight. Maybe he'd use that to his advantage.

Thorfinn used the bulk of his frame to push her up against the wall. They were completely hidden from the rest of the courtyard when behind that hedge. As long as no one walked right past them, they could go undetected for hours. Or at least just as long as it took for him to get some satisfaction from the witch that had been responsible for some of the most miserable moments of his life.

"Disappointed it's me, Princess?" he teased. "Sorry Dolohov is a bit busy right now."

Her eyes widened at the mention of her lover's name.

"Yeah, he's a little busy bleeding out from a massive wound on his head."

The tears dripping from her eyes only made him laugh harder.

"Sorry, Princess. He's unavailable to rescue you from me at the moment. Honestly, I doubt he will ever be able to rescue _anyone_ again. Shame, really. I used to look up to him. Used to admire him. All it took was one fucking bitch to come between us. Ruin our partnership. That man's been in love with you since you cracked open his skull in London. Never understood that. Takes a special fucked up kind of person to _enjoy_ having their arse kicked."

Thorfinn loved to see her squirm and cry. While he wasn't usually one of the debauched Death Eaters who took an especial pleasure in the violation of enemies, he'd been fantasizing about making Granger pay for over two years. She deserved to be punished just as much as he was the day that the Malfoy bastard tortured him because of _her_. No, Princess was different than the random slags he'd seen castigated. _She_ was the only one who haunted his fantasies at night. Potter's Mudblood was his ultimate prize. Damn Antonin for claiming her before he had the chance!

"Looks like we've got all the time in the world," he whispered. "No one is looking. Doubt anyone will come over here until we're done anyway."

The tears increased on her face. Thorfinn leaned down to capture several of them on his tongue. She shuddered at the impact and only encouraged him to do it again. When her discomfort and fear became even more apparent, he stepped back with a chuckle. He placed his hands on her waist, ignoring her trembling. She closed her eyes as he lowered his head towards hers. He was just a breath away…

"Finnie?"

Someone could have hit him with an ice cold _aguamenti_ spell and it wouldn't have affected him as soundly as the soft, familiar voice behind him. Thinking it must be an auditory illusion, he whipped around with his wand in his hand ready to curse the culprit. When his eyes met the cool blue eyes of his younger sister Reina, he was momentarily afraid that he was going to faint. He hadn't seen her or heard a word about her in months. A part of him feared that she was dead.

"Finnie!"

Reina threw her arms around her older brother and began to sob into his shoulder. Fazed by the sudden change in the circumstances around him, Thorfinn wasn't sure what to do next. Did his long lost sister just seriously interrupt him right before he was about to take Granger against her will? What had she seen? A quick glance at Hermione showed that she was just as confused as he was.

"What are you doing here, Reina?" he demanded, gently pushing his sister away from him. "It isn't safe for you to be here."

"I've been living with the Resistance for months now. They took me in after…"

She couldn't complete her thought. Neither of them wanted her to. Her brother knew what she was referring to. She had been living with the Resistance since she was held captive in the dungeons of the school and periodically brought out to be ravaged in his presence by Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, and several others. He briefly wondered what had happened to her baby. Did it live? He wouldn't have blamed her for a moment if she held the bastard's head under the bathwater until it ceased to exist. What kind of life could a child born of rape have to look forward to anyway?

"I came back to kill them."

He didn't have to ask who she meant. It was obvious by her tone.

"Reinie, you can't be here. It's too dangerous. It's only going to be a matter of time before the Dark Lord puts an end to all of this. You could be killed."

"Have you paid attention, big brother? _Your_ side is losing. I've already killed Crabbe. Sent a spell straight to his chest and knocked him off of the moving staircase. He fell four stories before smashing his head on the stone. I'll be satisfied if I can kill Macnair next. Have you seen him?"

"He's dead."

The siblings were surprised by the soft voice behind them. Thorfinn had almost forgotten Granger was still standing behind him. Reina wasn't able to get a good look when she passed by the hedge. If the moonlight hadn't shined off of her tall brother's distinctive blond hair, she probably would've run right past him. Obviously the Mudblood had used the opportunity to remove the silencing spell.

"Hermione Granger?" Reina asked. She gave her brother a sharp look before turning her attention back to the girl she remembered from school. "You said Macnair is dead? Are you positive?"

"Yes, he was kicked in the head by a centaur yesterday morning in the Forbidden Forest. I saw it happen. There's no way he could've survived."

Reina released a loud, shuddering sigh at the news of her rapist's death. He had been the one who captured her, the one who took her the first time, the one who took her the most frequently. Not content to wait until she was summoned to the meetings, Macnair used to seek her out in her dungeon cage. She was certain her brother wasn't aware of the sheer number of times the piece of shit had raped her.

"It's not safe for you to remain here, Thorfinn. Come with me. We'll leave together. They're already calling for your blood."

Thorfinn stared back at the sobbing form of Granger one last time before he allowed his younger sister to lead him away from the courtyard. His sister had to be his priority. Now that he knew she was alive nothing else mattered.

* * *

Several curses shot past Arthur's head with a disturbing degree of frequency. After his group stumbled upon an assemblage of Death Eaters and wannabe Death Eaters just outside of the courtyard, his wand had been working overtime. Several of them had been stunned and possibly killed by their efforts. It would've almost felt good to Arthur if he didn't stop to think that each person they put down was just that… a person. A person with a family and hopes and dreams and emotions and feelings. It was enough to make him want to run in the opposite direction. Yes, they were fighting for the wrong side. They were fighting for the side of evil, but it was still true that for every person they knocked down, there was a family that was about to experience the same loss he had been experiencing the past two years. If they weren't actively shooting curses at his head, he'd be even more sympathetic.

A number of the ones he'd stunned had been children. Some of them were obviously terrified of their own shadow and were of no use to the defense of the castle against the Resistance rabble, but there were still several who took just a little bit more pride in fighting than Arthur cared to see. He couldn't imagine his children fighting with a ferocity some of these children were. After about ten or so students, he stopped counting the number he stunned. It was enough that they were no longer in harm's way. Hopefully the end of the war could bring them the help they needed to be sure they weren't going to be just another statistic in the fight against the Dark Arts.

The sweet, blonde Hufflepuff girl that had been living with George and Angelina for several months at their home rushed across the courtyard searching the darkened corners. George gave him a bit of backstory on the poor girl. Abandoned while pregnant, she'd had a terrible accident falling from a broom and lost her baby. Angie swore that it sounded to her that it was no accident, but without proof she didn't want to spread any unnecessary rumors. A member of her House found her and offered her a safe place to stay. The safe place turned out to be his son's guest bedroom. She was such a pleasant girl, definitely representative of her House. It pained him to hear snippets of her past and know that he was not receiving the full tragic story.

Arthur kept his eye on her as she disappeared behind a large hedge. She'd already proven herself to be a capable fighter. There were many who witnessed her taking out Crabbe on the moving staircases. For being such a tiny thing, she was ferocious. When he didn't see her for several minutes and the action was wrapping up around him, Arthur got a bit worried. After taking a quick sweep of the courtyard, he crossed over to the hedge where she disappeared. Before he was able to approach the area, he was surprised to see the girl dragging a large, blond man by the hand. He couldn't be certain in the dimness, but he could've sworn it looked like that Thorpeen Route guy. Remembering his part in the kidnapping of Hermione, Arthur took off running to close the gap.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a very heavily pregnant person emerge from behind the hedge. His thoughts immediately went to Hermione. What other pregnant woman would be in the castle in the middle of this battle? Arthur quickened his steps just in time to see the woman open a hidden panel in a wall and slip inside. Certain that it was Hermione, Arthur rushed to the stone wall she disappeared behind.

* * *

Neville promised himself that when this was all over he was going to seek out Professor McGonagall and give her the biggest kiss of her many years. Her assistance in the secret passages likely saved his life. He would forever be grateful for the almost easy ascension to the Headmaster's office. Following the gargoyles had been a bit unnerving at first. Even with a lifetime ensconced in the wizarding world, he still found himself ill at ease with talking gargoyles. His grandmother's, or rather _his_ , house had creepy gargoyles on the roof that used to taunt and tease him as a child.

The last gargoyle opened up a hidden panel in the stone wall. Neville took a deep breath before stepping through. There would not be another chance to complete his mission after this. It was all or nothing. Either he would succeed or he would die. Strangely he felt content with that knowledge. He felt as if the past almost twenty years of his life had been preparing him for this single moment.

He was surprised to find the Headmaster's office almost completely empty. No doubt the Death Eaters and other members of Lord Voldemort's entourage were downstairs or outside fighting. They were sorely outnumbered by the Resistance. Every warm body was required to put up any amount of a fight. Neville passed a magical barrier that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The atmosphere past the barrier was discomforting and sickening. He had to swallow a rush of bile that threatened to explode out of his mouth.

"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom. I have been wondering when I would be seeing you again."

The ethereal voice of the darkest wizard the world had ever known almost made Neville nervous. _Almost_. His thoughts swept back in time to the moment when his friend Harry Potter stood before Lord Voldemort in the Great Hall. He had been willing to die. He had been ready to die. Harry had shown no fear. It was the least he could do to honor his friend's memory to remain brave in the face of his enemy.

"You're not looking so good there," Neville replied. He often wondered where his sarcasm came from. It had only popped up into existence in the last few years. Maybe he was channeling his late grandmother. There were worse people to be like. "It's been what? Almost two years? I'd say that I've gotten bigger and stronger while you've gotten weaker and sicker."

"Do you dare taunt the most powerful wizard in the world, boy?" The hiss that came out of the serpentine man's mouth was angry, annoyed even. No doubt he was not used to being openly mocked.

"Yeah, see the thing is, I don't think you _are_ the most powerful wizard anymore."

Lord Voldemort's red eyes narrowed at Neville from behind the massive Headmaster's desk. No, Neville was positive that no one dared to make fun of him within his hearing.

"How dare you, boy!"

As if to prove his point, Voldemort raised his wand to point it at Neville. The young wizard couldn't help but notice the way his skeletal arm shook and trembled as he lifted his wand. It took next to no effort for Neville to disarm the wizard. Holding the wand in his hand that had been used to murder several of his loved ones, Neville couldn't hide a triumphant grin at the horrified shriek from across the room. Obviously his followers had been content to believe that he was still powerful. He wasn't even twenty years old and he disarmed the bastard. Voldemort tried to send a wandless curse his way, but it was weak enough that Neville had more than enough time to deflect it. The simple curse seemed to drain even more of Voldemort's energy. Neville was certain that left to continue on the way he was at present, the Dark Lord didn't have much time left among the living.

"Do you remember that prophecy you were so keen on finding a few years ago?" Neville asked. When he didn't get a response, he continued. " _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'_ You assumed all of those years ago that it was about Harry Potter. Were you aware that it could've just as easily been about _me?_ "

Voldemort narrowed his eyes even further at the young wizard. Any more and the slits would be completely closed. His annoyance and frustration at his weakness and the taunts of the young boy were evident. At his full strength, Neville would've been dead in moments.

"I should have killed you two years ago," the dark wizard spat.

"Yeah, you probably should have," Neville agreed. "Unfortunately you didn't. All you did was give me the opportunity to grow strong enough to avenge my friend. Avenge my parents. Avenge my grandmother. I'm not afraid of you any longer, _Voldemort_."

The weakened wizard hissed at the audacity he showed speaking his name aloud. His reaction only served to amuse Neville. He crossed the length of the office to stand by the bookshelves nearest the desk. The closer he walked to the evil git, the easier it was to see that Voldemort was not looking good at all. He reminded Neville of pictures he'd seen of wizards locked up in leper colonies centuries earlier. If a bony finger had fallen off of his hand as he was watching, he wouldn't have been surprised at all. It was a sickening sight to behold.

Neville's eyes scanned the bookshelf next to him. A smile flickered across his features when he caught a glimpse of the Sorting Hat. It hadn't been used to sort students for the past two years, but obviously Lord Voldemort was a sentimental old fool. Neville rose up on his tiptoes to pull the old hat down. He reached his hand inside and felt the familiar hilt of the ruby encrusted Sword of Gryffindor. _How appropriate_.

"Your time is up, Voldemort. Your troops downstairs have all but been defeated. You are losing the war."

"Insolent boy!"

"I've certainly been called worse by wizards better than you."

Neville walked around the back of the desk with his hand still buried inside the Sorting Hat. He could almost swear that the wizard was struggling to breathe the closer he came.

"You know, _Voldy_ , I've got a son now, and I really, _really_ want him to be a Gryffindor. His mother wants him to follow in her footsteps and become a Hufflepuff. She says that they are the House that every student should strive to be more like. When it comes down to it, I don't suppose it will matter. Just as long as he is free to attend school in a world you no longer exist in."

Neville dropped the Sorting Hat as he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out. Voldemort's eyes grew wide. Without a moment of hesitation, Neville thrust the blade into the cavity that would've held the wizard's heart if he had ever had one. Similar to reports of how his horcruxes looked when they'd been destroyed, a black, tar-like substance began to gush out of the open wound. Voldemort opened his mouth to shriek but no sound came out. Moments later a high-pitched squeal louder than any noise anyone on the grounds had ever heard sounded throughout a five mile radius. As the fighters inside and outside the castle covered their ears to protect their ear drums from bursting, every single person marked with a Dark Mark collapsed to the ground in pain clutching their left forearm.

* * *

Draco didn't remember hitting the stone floor of the dungeons when he heard the noise. It all happened so fast. One moment he was standing guard at the door to the common room he'd spent seven years in, and the next he was hearing an unearthly howl and his arm was lit up with a pain he had never experienced before. Even the night he'd been marked hadn't been that painful. As he tried to shakily pull himself off of the floor, he could feel his left arm still throbbing with an insistent pain. It was slowly growing weaker. He pulled up his sleeve and for the first time in years he could see nothing on his arm but the same pale skin he saw on the rest of his body. The Dark Mark was gone.

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?" one of the students poked his head out of the door to ask.

"I'm not sure, Jeffries. Get back inside. Don't open the door again."

The young boy did as he was bid. Draco ran as fast as he could down the dungeons corridor and up the staircase to the Entrance Hall. Chaos was the only word to describe what he found when he crossed the Hall to the front door and out onto the grounds. Death Eaters were rushing towards the Forbidden Forest en masse clutching their arms and screaming. Several of the Resistance members were running after them in an attempt to stop them. Draco was thankful for his sharp eyes. When they reached the edge of the forest, he could just barely make out what had to have been Weasley red hair. The figure wasn't familiar at that distance. When he stepped out from the forest, Draco gasped along with everyone else in the vicinity. What must have been the entire centaur herd from within the forest stepped out onto the grounds. They joined the final push in rounding up the Death Eaters and Snatchers determined to escape through the forest.

Knowing that the Resistance had everything under control, Draco ran back down to the dungeons with a smirk on his face to check on his students.

* * *

She wasted no time after witnessing Thorfinn Rowle's little sister drag him away from the area to rush back to the secret passage. Even though Hermione knew that Antonin's injury was bad, she wasn't expecting what she found. Lying on the hard stone floor with his eyes clamped shut and his head in a puddle of blood, Antonin was paler than she had ever seen him. She screamed his name several times to no effect. He didn't move. Hermione knelt down beside his figure with all of the grace she could in her state. She placed her hands on his form and began to sob.

* * *

Lucius burst through the gaping hole of the hospital ward that had once been a doorway. He tried not to worry too much about the fact that it was obvious that at some point in the battle, the door was blasted to pieces. Was Hermione inside the ward when it happened? His heart began to beat faster and he could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

He screamed her name, but she was nowhere to be found amongst the rows and rows of empty beds. It seemed strange that in the middle of the fight there weren't any patients in the hospital yet. Lucius crossed the room towards the private office of the matron and found Poppy Pomfrey seated at her desk clutching her head. He could see streaks of blood running down the side of her head, but she was coherent and awake. One look at him and she pointed towards her private quarters.

"Secret passage at the bookshelf," she said. "They went down it some time ago. They're probably not still down there."

"Thank you. Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. Go get her. The arsehole that did this to me followed after them."

Lucius wasted not a second more. He found the open passage easily. Without stopping to take a break, he ran down the entire staircase, narrowly missing stumbling upon Antonin's form sprawled on the stone floor in a pool of his own blood. Hermione was weeping over his body. Was he dead? He couldn't be positive, but he certainly looked lifeless. Lucius' eyes met Arthur's over the top of Hermione's sobbing head. Arthur shook his head solemnly.

"Hermione?"

She stopped sobbing for just a moment to look up at Lucius still standing at the foot of the stairs. At his appearance she began sobbing even harder. He rushed to pull her awkward body into his arms. All reminders from Madam Pomfrey earlier in the evening to keep her stress to a minimum were forgotten. Lucius rubbed his hands up and down her back in a futile effort to calm his witch down.

"I'm going to go get some help," offered Arthur before rushing out the passage.

Hermione clutched her stomach and began to scream. Lucius saw blood soaking her dress. He lifted her effortlessly in his arms and ran out through the open door. Passing Arthur at a full speed, he didn't stop moving until he was past the hole where the gates used to be. The moment he knew he was past the heat of the still ensuing battle, Lucius turned in a circle and Disapparated with his love still sobbing in his arms.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty Five

Lucius arrived in the Apparition foyer of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries just as Hermione fainted. He couldn't be sure if it was a result of the pain, the blood loss she was experiencing, the unbelievable amounts of stress and fear she'd had that evening or a combination of it all. The moment her eyes closed and she stopped crying spurred him to a panicked fever pitch. He had never felt so helpless.

"She needs assistance immediately!" he screamed at the overly perky Welcome Witch at the front desk. What right did she have to be so positive and happy when his world was falling all around him? "She has lost a lot of blood!"

The smile was wiped off the woman's face the moment he began screaming. She bustled out from behind the large reception desk. When her eyes adjusted on Hermione's wan face and then up to Lucius' well-known features, she gasped aloud.

"Security!" she screamed. "Undesirables in reception! Security!"

"Shut up, you daft cow!"

She closed her mouth at the command without hesitation. Lucius was angrier than he'd ever been in his entire life. How dare she start screaming for security when the woman in his arms could be dying? Where was the bloody compassion?

"If you bothered to read more than just hair tips in Witch Weekly, you might have learned that we have both been pardoned for any fictional crimes pinned on us by the Minister for Magic himself!"

His voice was loud enough to echo down the white tiled hallway. A hospital's emergency room never sleeps. Even at two in the morning their tableau was garnering a large audience. Embarrassed tears filled up the witch's eyes and Lucius rolled his own. He couldn't bear to be in her presence for another moment.

"Get her some help, woman!"

Finally the Welcome Witch was goaded into action. She raised her wand to shoot red sparks down the long hallway. Only mere moments passed before an entire team of healers and their assistants appeared in the room with a hovering stretcher.

"What happened?" demanded a no-nonsense healer of about sixty who was already waving her wand over Hermione's unconscious form. "How long has she been like this?"

"We were at Hogwarts. I am not sure how long has passed. Not long. She grabbed her stomach and started screaming. She has not stopped bleeding since."

"How far along is she?"

"Almost thirty-three weeks."

Two of the orderlies forcibly removed her body from his arms to lay her out on the stretcher. He would've hexed them both if the healer hadn't placed a hand on the forearm of his wand arm.

"They're just taking her to the operating room, Mr. Malfoy."

"Operating room?!"

"Yes, we have to deliver that baby as soon as possible to save both of their lives."

Lucius tried to follow behind the stretcher as his entire world was taken down the corridor. The same healer stopped him again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but you will need to remain in the waiting room. We will bring you news as soon as we have any."

She ran down the hallway, surprisingly agile for her age. Lucius stood at the end of the corridor watching as Hermione disappeared. He couldn't be certain how long he remained staring down the empty hallway. The now abashed Welcome Witch gently led him to the stark waiting room where he would spend the longest five hours of his life.

How the other unfortunate souls waiting in the same room with him were able to remain calm and composed seated in their plastic chairs while Lucius' entire future hung in the balance was a mystery to the frightened wizard. The moment he saw Hermione step into the kitchen over a year earlier wearing his pajamas, Lucius could imagine no other future for him than one where she was with him. How many times did he catch himself dreaming about her in the early days of her stay in the manor? They started off as harmless, uncontrollable dreams at night that bled into his conscious hours in awkward, delightful fantasies. He became as bad as a teenager in those first few weeks, excusing himself from the room she was in multiple times a day to calm the part of his anatomy he'd always had control over as an adult.

The night of Rabastan Lestrange's Merlin-forsaken party was still one of the greatest nights of his life. Imagining returning to a life where he wasn't free to kiss her and hold her and make her scream in that intoxicating voice she had only for him didn't bear thought. He would almost rather die than go back to what his life was in those cold, lonely months alone in the manor. Even with the promise of his son and his little family returning to live with him wouldn't be enough if she weren't by his side.

He almost didn't survive those three blasted months when she was hidden away as Antonin's captive. Food had no flavor. The air was too thick and oppressive to breathe. Sleep was impossible to find in an empty bed without her curls finding their way up his nose in the middle of the night. If Muriel and Arthur hadn't resorted to the underhanded practice of drugging him with copious amounts of Dreamless Sleep potions, his body would've never healed properly after Azkaban.

And then to have her back all of those months only for that bastard Thorfinn Rowle to kidnap her at her most vulnerable… Rowle should pray that Lucius never found him. His death would be agonizing. For two weeks Lucius shut himself up in Shell Cottage with the other members of the Resistance trying to formulate a plan that would not only rescue Hermione, but finally bring the war to its end. " _Fuck the war!"_ had been his repeated response to calls for patience. If it had been up to him, he would've stormed the castle the very day she was taken.

In the weeks preparing for the battle, he'd been unable to bear the thought of sleeping in the uncomfortable tiny double bed they'd shared in the tiniest bedroom. His housewarming present for Bill and his wife when they were finally able to return home was going to be a proper bed, he'd decided. Instead of wallowing in the bedroom lost in memories of Hermione, he'd offered the room to that Katie girl and her husband that murdered the previous Minister. Kingsley was having a hell of a time keeping the knowledge that a Russian national was responsible for Thicknesse's death _after_ he was already in custody, but he was determined to use his new power as Minister for Magic to cover it up. Their lives had already been affected too much by the fucking Umbridge Home.

Arthur joined him during the fourth hour of his vigil. He had finally stopped pacing up and down the waiting room to stand where he could stare down the long, empty corridor. Lucius almost missed the older man's presence. Without any fanfare or any questions, Arthur quietly stood next to his friend waiting for him to make the first move. He was there only to support.

"I do not know anything yet," Lucius said by way of a greeting when he finally became aware of the other man's presence. He didn't seem in the least surprised by Arthur's appearance.

"Our girl is very tough," Arthur replied. "She never gives up or does anything halfway."

Lucius couldn't argue with the man. He had no doubt that Hermione wouldn't give up without a fight. The fact that over four hours had passed without any word from the healers made him increasingly nervous. What if she'd already fought as much as she could? A human doesn't possess an infinite amount of strength. Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Lucius' shoulder that almost made the blond man lose his already shaken resolve. How had he survived over forty-six years without having one true friend?

"How are your children?" Lucius asked mentally berating himself for not asking the question the moment he saw Arthur. His personal struggles weren't enough to ignore his friend's.

Arthur smiled at the question.

"Everyone is fine," he answered, ignoring the tears that were forming in his eyes. "George took a nasty spill off of his broom, but he will be fine. Angie is already lecturing him on being an idiot."

Lucius failed at suppressing a quiet chuckle. It had only taken him five minutes with Angelina Johnson to know that she was an uncommon woman and he liked her immediately.

"She said she's thankful that he landed on his head and not on another part of his body he actually uses."

Lucius chuckled again, thankful for the distraction from his own tumultuous thoughts. The mention of George's head wound brought Antonin to mind. Lucius asked after the man. Arthur sighed and shook his head.

"The damnedest thing, Lucius," he answered. "I ran for help. Found an available healer in the Great Hall who agreed to follow me. We ran all of the way there. Couldn't have been more than five minutes. _Maybe_ ten. I pushed open the wall and Dolohov was gone."

"Gone? Do you mean dead?"

"No, gone as in _gone_. Nothing but his blood left on the stone. I went looking, of course, but then I found out George was being treated in Hogsmeade. Bill promised he'd keep an eye out and I wouldn't be surprised if Percy has a full casualty list before breakfast."

Any further attempts at speculating just where Antonin Dolohov ended up were immediately interrupted by the sudden appearance of the weary healer from earlier. Her arrival in the waiting room both excited and terrified Lucius at the same time. Nothing in her facial expression gave him any indication of the news she was about to provide.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" He held his breath.

"Miss Granger and her son are doing well. We've put her in a deep sleep for now. The birth was fairly traumatic for them both. I won't lie to you, Mr. Malfoy. We almost lost them both."

Arthur's hand squeezed Lucius' shoulder and the younger wizard released a strangled sob that he swiftly and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle. His silvery grey eyes burned with tears. It was a testament to how much he loved Hermione that the once haughty and proud man didn't even wipe them off his cheeks as they began to fall freely of their own accord.

"Miss Granger will be asleep for many days," the healer continued. "Her body needs time to repair itself. I'm assuming that she had a difficult pregnancy based on the preterm birth. I have no records of her prenatal care."

"Naturally remaining in hiding from a corrupt Ministry with a price on her pretty, little head kept her from having the most idyllic of pregnancies," he snapped.

"Be that as it may," she said, unperturbed by his outburst. "I anticipate that she will make a full recovery. I don't imagine that this will prevent her from having any more children in the future if she so chooses. Of course, time will tell the extent of her injuries."

Lucius exhaled, unaware until that moment that he'd secretly been harboring that fear.

"And what about my son?" he asked in a much calmer tone than earlier.

The healer granted him what was obviously a rare smile.

"He is small, but he is strong. We have him in a special nursery. His lungs are not quite fully developed yet, but we are helping him breathe. A specialist healer is examining him right now. Would you like to see him?"

There was no hesitation on his part. After explaining that Arthur was the baby's godfather and therefore had almost as many rights as the parents, the healer allowed both men to follow her down the plain hallway. Not another word was spoken until they entered the lift, exited on the fifth floor and walked to a closed ward. Lucius was once more grateful to have Arthur with him. Doing all of this alone might've broken him.

"Your son is a bit small, Mr. Malfoy," the healer warned them before she opened the door to the nursery. "Not too small, mind you. He's just a little less than five pounds. If he hadn't been so anxious to arrive early, he likely would've been quite big."

The closer they got to the nursery, the more worried and anxious Lucius grew. What if he couldn't love this baby like he promised Hermione he would? Making a promise is one thing, but following through in reality was another. From the moment he heard that Antonin had been able to sense the baby at New Years, he knew biologically the child wasn't his. He promised Hermione that it wouldn't matter. He would give her baby his name, his protection and most importantly, his love. It's easy to make abstract promises before the baby is in existence.

In those moments after they opened the door to the ward and began to cross the room towards the bubble he knew contained his new son, biologically or otherwise, Lucius recalled a conversation he had with Arthur in the days following the revelation at New Years. Part of Lucius hoped and prayed that his inability to sense the baby was because of Hermione's Muggle heritage or maybe because it was a girl. Female babies did not give off as much of a magical signature as the first born male of the House's line. Once he knew that Antonin sensed his son, Lucius couldn't keep the news to himself.

 _"Well, what do you plan on doing now that you know, Lucius?" Arthur asked._

 _"I am not sure," he answered. "No, that is not true. I will help Hermione in any way that I can. I love her. It is not her baby's fault that I am not his father."_

 _"And the baby?"_

 _"I will claim it…_ him _. I will claim him as my son and he will be raised in the manner that a Malfoy should be raised."_

 _"Names and money and protection are fine, Lucius, but what about love?"_

 _Lucius was flabbergasted by the intimate question. He had been so worked up over thinking how he would promise to provide for the child that he hadn't really given the thought of whether or not he would love the baby much thought._

 _"Do you think it is possible to love a child that is not yours?" Lucius asked, almost afraid to learn the answer._

 _"Absolutely! I love Hermione as one of my own. I loved Harry. Always thought of him as my seventh son. We shared no blood or biology, but I loved them dearly. Always will."_

 _Lucius must have hesitated too long with his response because Arthur shot another question in his direction._

 _"Would you love Hermione's child if he'd been born before you ever met her? If she'd shown up on your doorstep with a baby months before you ever kissed her, would you have been able to love_ that _child?"_

 _"He would have been a part of her, so of course. Maybe not at first, but I am certain I would have grown to be fond of the child first. Eventually that would have paved the way to love, especially once I knew I was besotted with his mother."_

 _"Then you have your answer, Lucius. Maybe you won't love him immediately, but you will. Some day you will look at him and realize that loving him is not only possible, but as natural as breathing. It simply may take some time."_

Arthur had been correct. It did take some time before Lucius loved the dark haired baby lying on the cot in front of him surrounded by a breathing bubble charm. It took about half a second. Little Ryan was awake. Like his mother, he was already eager to learn everything he could. His eyes were staring around the room as much as possible for a newborn. Lucius knew that it took time for new babies to actually be able to focus on anything and see with their eyes, but the moment Ryan's dark brown eyes met Lucius' grey eyes, Lucius was enamored.

"He is beautiful," Lucius whispered, wishing he could reach out and touch the small baby. "He has Hermione's nose."

The specialist healer looked up from her examination to smile at the two men.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Mr. Malfoy," she responded. "Those eyes! Can you even imagine what they will look like when he is a teenager? You will have to teach him many hexes to keep the young girls away."

"How is he doing?"

Ryan certainly looked strong to Lucius. Even for being a small baby, he looked healthy.

"Our tiny patient is doing very well. Being born as early as he was, his lungs aren't fully developed yet. Not to worry though. They're almost there. We're going to keep him in this bubble charm to help him breathe for a couple of days. I've already administered a potion to him that will speed along the development of his lungs."

"Is that safe?" He had no experience with a baby with health problems. Draco and Lyra had both been born perfectly healthy with no serious conditions whatsoever.

"Of course," she answered with an indulgent smile. In her line of work she was certain to have experienced her fair share of terrified parents questioning her every move. "Other than his lungs, he just needs to put on some weight before we can send him home."

"How long until then? Will he have to remain in hospital until his original due date?"

The healer smiled again with a simpering smirk that Lucius momentarily wanted to curse off her face. He had every right to ask her every question he could think of! This was his child!

"That _is_ how Muggles handle premature babies, Mr. Malfoy, but I'd like to think that we were just a _little_ more advanced than that. He shouldn't need to stay more than a couple of weeks at most. He's healthy."

Hermione's healer tapped Lucius on the back of his arm.

"We should leave Healer Shrout now, Mr. Malfoy. Young Mr. Malfoy will be needing his sleep and I'm afraid we cannot linger in this ward. In a few days when he is stronger, he will be moved into Miss Granger's room with her."

"Can we see Hermione?"

They were led down the hallway to yet another corridor. How any rooms were able to be built in a building consisting of nothing but corridors was beyond Lucius. The healer pushed open a plain door in the ward before ushering them in. Hermione looked exhausted, but peaceful. Lucius rushed to kiss her slumbering forehead, ignoring the tears he wasn't entirely certain hadn't been present for hours.

"We are keeping her in an enchanted sleep," the healer explained once more. "We will reevaluate her each day. I am hopeful that she will be out for no more than a week."

* * *

 _Seven bloody miserable days_ , Lucius thought for the thousandth time in the span of the four days that had already passed. Each day had been longer than the last as he became more and more bored of the damned hospital. He left once a day to Apparate home to the manor for a hot shower, a change of clothes and an exquisite meal prepared by his newly returned house elves. Tildie would not allow him to leave the manor for the hospital without every pocket of his robes filled with morsels that she was certain he would want to nibble on throughout the day during his bedside vigil. He'd desperately missed having a household staff, but feared if he wasn't careful, they'd be letting out his entire wardrobe before too long to accommodate his expanding girth.

He was allowed a short time each day to visit Ryan. Still under the bubble charm, Lucius had not been able to hold him yet. The healers promised him that _soon_ he would be ready to be held. Lucius was growing progressively anxious for that moment.

On the fourth day he sat in the increasingly uncomfortable armchair next to Hermione's bedside. She was still doing just fine according to the numerous healers and mediwitches that seemed to traipse in and out at all hours. He wished he could hear her voice tell her so himself.

Arthur had been a daily visitor. He usually only stayed for an hour or two at a time, but his presence was more than welcome. Lucius was certain he would go completely mad if he had no one to speak to but the medical personnel and himself. Even speaking to Hermione while she as asleep wasn't enough to preserve his sanity.

"Mr. Malfoy?" asked a voice on the outside of the door. He looked up from his book and waved them in. It was the specialist healer from the first night pushing a small cot on wheels. "I have someone who would like to visit."

Lucius was on his feet and across the room before his mind fully registered his movements. Ryan was awake in his cot, staring up at him. He looked a bit larger than yesterday, but Lucius wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that he was no longer completely enclosed underneath a magical bubble.

"Would you like to hold your son, Mr. Malfoy?" Healer Shrout inquired with a warm smile.

Ryan William Granger Malfoy settled into his father's arms as if it were the most natural place in the world for him to be. Lucius sat back down in the vacated armchair. A part of him was afraid that he would drop the baby due to his tiny size.

"All of our babies wear clothes imbued with a hovering charm," explained Healer Shrout when she saw the nervous look on his face. "Even if you drop him, he won't fall. But… please try not to drop him."

She left the small family alone at the last bit of advice. Lucius wished that Hermione could be awake to experience this moment. It was priceless and he felt that he was wrong to be having it by himself. Ryan stared up at Lucius with the tiniest crinkle in his forehead. After a few seconds of scrutinizing the man holding him, the small baby settled right to sleep, safe and content that no harm would come to him as long as Lucius had him in his arms.

"Mummy should be awake in a few days," Lucius said to the sleeping baby. He'd already spent four days speaking to an unconscious woman. What did it matter if he turned his attention to a sleeping baby? "She is a wonderful woman. I think you are going to like her. At least until you are old enough to do homework. Then she will probably get on your nerves, but you will still love her."

Lucius stared down at the sleeping child while trying to remind himself to breathe. His heart felt full. Arthur had been right once again.

"I promise, Ryan, that I will always keep you protected and loved," Lucius dropped his tone to a whisper even though neither of the other inhabitants of the room were in a position to hear or understand his words. "Your father sacrificed himself to protect you and your mummy. I vow to honor his sacrifice by loving and protecting both of you for as long as I live."

He placed a kiss on the tiny slumbering head and held the baby closer to his chest and his rapidly beating heart.

* * *

Hermione could hear the room before she could see it. When she finally started to feel her unconsciousness give way to awareness, the lights in the darkened room were still too bright for her sensitive eyes. She didn't wish to struggle so she kept her eyes closed and focused on her other senses.

"I am going to get you a puppy. In a perfect world, every little boy would have a dog and every dog would have a little boy."

Even with the weakness present in every single muscle in her body, Hermione could feel a grin form on her face upon hearing Lucius' words.

"Your older brother always wanted a pony when he was little, but they make me sneeze. There are dogs out there that can grow up to be as big as a pony. I can get you one of those if you would like."

"That's all right with me as long as _you_ are the one cleaning up after the monstrous dog," Hermione said in response.

After a squeak of shoes on the tile floor and the rustling of robes, Hermione could feel a presence standing at the edge of the bed. She summoned all of her strength to open her eyes. Lucius was holding a tiny bundle of blankets and smiling his gorgeous smirk.

"How are you feeling, my love?" he asked.

"Tired. Very, very tired."

"How can Mummy be so tired if she has been sleeping for an entire week, Ryan?" he teased.

Hermione reached a hand across the bed to take Lucius' free hand.

"Was I really asleep that long?"

Lucius leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"Yes, you have been. Your healer said she would be bringing you out of your enchanted sleep gradually today."

Her eyes were focused on the tiny bundle in his hands. Lucius released her hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and brought Ryan down in front of Hermione for her to see him. She was still too weak to hold him. The healer said it might take her a few more days to regain enough strength.

"He is perfect, Hermione. Absolutely perfect."

She smiled at the little face looking back into hers. Ryan seemed to be as interested in viewing his mother for the first time as she was viewing him.

"He has your nose."

Hermione couldn't help but tense at those words. She remembered Lord Voldemort saying the exact same thing to her when she was standing in the Headmaster's office so many weeks earlier. It was unnerving.

"Yes, he does," she agreed. "And… and Antonin's eyes and chin and cheekbones and…"

She burst into tears before she could stop herself. A large part of her still wanted to believe that her baby was biologically Lucius'. Their lives would've been much easier if that had been the case. Although, it seemed that Lucius was already very much in love with her, no, _their_ son.

"Yes, he does look a great deal like Antonin," he said, attempting a smile to reassure her nerves. "But even I have to admit that Antonin is an attractive man. Ryan should still be able to dazzle all of the young witches with his good looks just like all Malfoys."

She granted him a weary smile, grateful for his response. It would've been easy for that moment to be awkward.

"What happened to Antonin?" she asked, wondering if this was the best time to ask. Would there ever be a good time to ask?

Lucius exhaled a deep breath before answering.

"We are not sure, Hermione."

"What do you mean?" If she had been at her full strength her voice would've been a shriek at that point.

"Arthur ran for a healer and when they came back, Antonin was gone. No one has seen or heard from him since. No one knows if he died and his body was misplaced or if he somehow survived. Someone could've taken him somewhere. We just don't know."

She didn't want to dwell too closely on the implications of Lucius' explanation. There were too many variables in the search for Antonin, and after seven days of an enchanted sleep, she wasn't prepared to think that hard.

"Is everyone else okay?" she asked.

"For the most part, yes. The Resistance lost very few members. _None_ of the Weasleys even though George was injured. He has already made a full recovery. Neville was able to kill the Dark Lord."

"Good!"

"Yes, I am inclined to agree. Kingsley had his body recovered and stored in the Department of Mysteries for the time being. They will be conducting tests on it to make certain that he will be unable to regenerate himself again in the future. I, for one, think that he is well and truly dead this time."

"That's wonderful news."

"I do have some sad news, I'm afraid."

Hermione's stomach dropped. Her eyes prepared for the onslaught of emotions by pre-watering themselves.

"Minerva McGonagall did not survive the battle."

"Poor woman."

"Yes, but very brave as well. She assisted Neville in breaking into the Headmaster's office in the middle of the battle. The terms of her Unbreakable Vow… well, you can imagine."

A silence fell between the two of them as they both considered the ramifications of a broken Unbreakable Vow. Hermione hoped that it was a swift end. She couldn't bear the thought of her former Head of House lingering in agony for doing what was right instead of what was easy.

"You should rest now, Hermione. You are still recovering."

* * *

Two more days passed before Hermione was finally able to hold her son. She was advised by the team of healers working on their case that mother and son would be able to go home in just a few more days. Lucius continued to spend almost every moment of the day with them until the night before her healer said they would be released.

"Please go home, Lucius," she begged him when his eyes began to droop. "I know you've missed our bed."

"I don't want to leave the two of you alone."

"It's only one night. I'm perfectly strong enough to get out of bed now if Ryan needs anything in the middle of the night. Go home. Enjoy one final night alone in your bed."

"I am not certain I will be able to sleep without you by my side," he replied with a wink.

"You've been sleeping in that chair for days. I'm sure you can manage once you snuggle in."

Lucius kissed her several times and kissed Ryan several more before he finally agreed to spend the last night she was in the hospital at home. He promised that he would be there bright and early to prepare them for the journey home to the manor. Hermione knew he was anxious to spend some time with Draco, Luna and little Xeno who'd only just arrived back from Ireland a few days earlier.

Unlike every other night that she had been awake in the hospital, Hermione wasn't given a Dreamless Sleep potion the last night. Her healer didn't think it was necessary any longer which made Hermione ecstatic. She had never been able to stomach the thick sleeping potions. They reminded her too much of when she was petrified in her second year.

Of course without a Dreamless Sleep potion, Hermione's mind was open to dreams for the first time in weeks. She had always had an overactive imagination especially when she was asleep. Her final night in the hospital was no different.

* * *

 _There was a voice whispering across the room. She knew she knew the voice, but she couldn't place who it belonged to. Her eyes felt like they were glued shut. Opening them was a struggle. Even though finding herself unable to open her eyes in a dark room where there was disembodied whispering_ should've _been unnerving, Hermione felt calm. After struggling silently for what felt like several minutes, she was able to open her eyes._

 _She was still in her hospital room. Everything was still in its exact place except for the man seated on the small table by the window. There were no lights in the room except for the wash of moonlight shining through the window._

 _Antonin held their baby in his hands in front of his body. Both man and baby scrutinized each other with their matching eyes. The man was entranced, whispering soothing words to the baby in a mixture of his two languages that Hermione couldn't quite understand. Antonin set the tiny baby down on his knees and gently began to unwrap the swaddling cloth. Hermione didn't say a word. She was too interested in what he was doing. There wasn't any fear on her part. Antonin would kill everyone else in the world, including himself, before he willingly allowed any harm to come to their child._

 _"…seven, eight, nine, ten," he counted._

 _She giggled at the scary Death Eater with a history of murder and torture counting his baby's fingers and toes. The sound surprised Antonin and he looked up to find her watching them with a smile on his face. Hermione couldn't help but grin right back. It was such a sweet sight to find Antonin holding their baby and examining it in the moonlight._

 _"I'm sorry, daragaya. I didn't mean to wake you up," he whispered._

 _"It's all right. I feel like I've been sleeping for years."_

 _He smiled and she felt her stomach flutter. She would feel guilty for the way she treated him for the rest of her life. He deserved to be happy even if it wasn't with her. Hermione desperately hoped that one day he could find the same kind of love and joy she'd been blessed to find with Lucius._

 _"You don't need to keep counting," she teased. "I've already counted. He's perfect."_

 _Antonin smiled and stopped counting Ryan's toes._

 _"I assume you've checked under his nappy?" Antonin winked._

 _"Yes," she laughed. "He has two of what he should have two of and only one of what he should have one of."_

 _"Good."_

 _He joined her in quiet laughter._

 _"He is absolutely beautiful, Hermione."_

 _"Yes, he is. I'm so glad you were able to see him."_

 _"Me too. I wasn't sure there for a while that I would be able to."_

 _"He's a little small."_

 _"For now, but he's going to grow up big and strong before you know it. He'll be as big as his papa soon."_

 _A comfortable silence fell across the room between them. Antonin continued to croon to Ryan in that sweet, quiet voice that could soothe Hermione to sleep. She lay in the bed watching the scene in front of her and loving every moment._

 _"Papa has to go now, little one," he whispered. "He made a promise that he has to keep, but don't worry. If you or your mummy ever needs him, your mummy will know how to find him."_

 _Antonin placed Ryan back in his cot. With another kiss and several lingering moments of just staring at the tiny baby, Antonin crossed the hospital room to stop next to Hermione. He leaned down to kiss Hermione firmly and quickly on the lips._

 _"Thank you for my perfect son, Hermione."_

* * *

She felt like she woke up moments after the surreal dream ended. The light from the rising sun shone through the window. Hermione rose from the stiff hospital bed to check on her son. He was still blissfully asleep. From the corner of her eye she saw a flash of color near the window that hadn't been there the night before. She turned around from his cot to look towards the exact spot that Antonin had been sitting in during her dream. On the table by the windowsill sat a beautiful bouquet of thirteen, fourteen, _fifteen_ pink camellias. There was a white card amongst the flowers with a single world scrawled across it.

 _Rescisco._

She tucked the card back inside the bouquet just as Lucius entered the room. He came up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

"I just saw your healer walking down the corridor," he announced. "She said that she is on her way here after her morning rounds to release you."

"Thank god!"

She turned around in her love's arms to meet his lips with a kiss.

"Home, my love?"

"Yes, please."


	36. Epilogue - Day 4,870

Epilogue – Day 4,870

 **September 1, 2011**

The midmorning late summer sun was beating down furiously on the formal gardens of Malfoy Manor when Hermione stepped outside for a late breakfast. Most of the family had already eaten but Lucius allowed her to sleep in after a particularly trying late night with their four month old son who'd recently decided it was time he cut his first tooth. She sat up rocking the crying baby and doing whatever she could think of to provide him with some relief. While she was certainly grateful that Lucius had been thoughtful enough to keep the noise level down in the manor until she was ready to wake on her own, she wished he wouldn't have on that day of all days.

Their eleven year old son Ryan would be leaving for his first year at Hogwarts that morning. As any mother would, she wanted to spend every moment with her son before he left for several months. Lucius teased her that she was more excited about Ryan attending school than he was. They both knew how much she loved her years at school with her best friends.

It had been four thousand eight hundred and seventy days since she lost both Harry and Ron in the Great Hall of their loved school after a failed battle against Lord Voldemort and his forces. Four thousand five hundred and ninety-nine days since Lucius rescued her from the freezing streets of Inverness. Four thousand one hundred and sixty days since the war was finally over and their first child was born. Three thousand eight hundred and forty-four days since she and Lucius _finally_ were married. And then only one hundred and thirty-nine days since they were finally able to welcome their second child Arthur Harry into the world after a series of heartbreaking miscarriages through the years.

Snuggling little Artie closer to her chest as she crossed out into the gardens to the breakfast table that was always set up outside during warm weather, Hermione smiled at the sight of two young blonde girls, aged four and seven, playing near the fountains while their father Draco kept one eye on them and one eye on the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

"Good morning, Draco," she greeted as she sat down in an empty chair next to him. "Anything interesting this morning?"

"Morning," he replied. "Yes, actually there is. Looks like our old acquaintance Thorfinn Rowle has finally been captured."

The mention of the Death Eater who kidnapped her and attempted to rape her twice always put Hermione on edge. The massive blond wizard had gone into hiding with his younger sister following the _final_ final battle of the last war. Snippets of information had been discovered over the years, reported sightings around the world, but never any hard evidence of his whereabouts. He was one of the last unaccounted for Death Eaters still on the run from justice.

"Really? Wow. Only took eleven years."

"He should be extradited for his trial any day now. Father will be heading to the Ministry tomorrow to speak with Kingsley. He's concerned you might be called to testify."

"Nothing to be concerned about. If my testimony is required, I will be happy to provide it. Whatever will get that man in Azkaban or to his execution."

She released a loud exhale. Rowle was the only Death Eater she had been afraid of returning when she least expected it to wreak havoc on her life. Somehow she knew that even eleven years wasn't enough to tamper that man's rage against her.

"Where's Luna?" she asked suddenly desperate for a change in conversation.

"She's resting. Poor thing hasn't been sleeping well at night."

"Yes, well, the last few weeks of pregnancy are uncomfortable and exhausting."

Draco peered over his newspaper to raise an eyebrow at her in much the same manner that his father often did.

"As are the _first_ few weeks, I'm given to understand."

Hermione's cheeks flushed red at her stepson's comment. Was it that obvious?

"How did you guess?" she asked.

"Granger, I'm going to be a father of four in just a few days. I think by now I can recognize the signs. Does Father know yet?"

"No, I wanted to wait to tell him."

"Why?"

"I didn't want him to get his hopes up. You know what my past has been like," she answered as she willed herself not to burst into tears. Her lost children would always be a sore subject to her. "And besides, Artie is only four months old. I didn't want to embarrass Lucius just yet with a baby so soon after the last one."

Draco burst out into the loud, warm laugh so much like his father's that Hermione had grown to love over the years.

"First of all, Hermione, you don't look the same as you did with the other babies. Until you were pregnant with Artie, you never looked healthy pregnant after Ryan. You look more like you did when you first found out you were going to have Artie. I'm certain this baby will be perfect."

"Thank you, Draco."

"And as far as Father being _embarrassed_? He's going to be bloody thrilled! You know his desire to have a large family. Of course if we aren't careful we Malfoys will become just as prolific as the Weasleys."

Draco shuddered at the thought while Hermione laughed.

"Where is Lucius?" she asked after taking a quick survey of the grounds and only seeing the two girls.

"Xeno took him down to the pond with Ryan. He claims he found a nest of dabberblimps and wanted to show Father so he could be sure to protect them from the dogs while he is away at school."

"What on earth is a dabberblimp?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

Their chuckles gave way to a companionable silence while Draco finished his paper and Hermione enjoyed her tea. Artie was happy to sit in his mother's lap and smile at his nieces.

"Pandora Lyra Malfoy!" Hermione shouted at the older of the two girls who was busy dunking her laughing little sister in the fountain. "You get your little sister out of that fountain immediately!"

"Dorie, Cissy, mind your granny," Draco added.

Hermione turned her fury to Draco to glare at the slightly younger man.

"You foul, loathsome…"

He just continued to laugh at her expression. This was a game he'd enjoyed playing for over eleven years.

"Is that ever going to get old for you?"

"It hasn't yet," he answered with a wink.

"I'm not even thirty-two yet."

"To be fair, Hermione, you _did_ marry a man who was _already_ a grandfather,"

"A sexy grandfather!"

Draco winced at the comment. It was Hermione's turn to laugh at his discomfort.

"Did you ever think all of those years ago in Hogwarts that one day you and I would be best friends, Draco?"

"I probably would've hexed you if you'd made such a ridiculous prediction," he replied. "I've been meaning to talk to you about your choice of friends by the way.'

"You have?"

"Yes, it seems that you don't have nearly enough of them. Having "girl talk" with the woman who is married to your father can be quite awkward at times."

"I can imagine," she teased.

"Yes, it is. I would prefer if you could wait until Luna is in the mood for a proper chinwag. I'm certain you would both have a great deal to say to each other about the sexy beasts you both married."

Draco winked at her over his cup of coffee. She snorted in a very undignified manner that caused them both to burst into another round of laughter. Interested by the chuckles, Pandora and Narcissa Malfoy joined their father, step-grandmother and baby uncle at the table. Draco rolled his eyes at the dripping state of little Narcissa's clothes. He waved his wand to dry her immediately.

"Why don't you girls go to the kitchen and see if Tildie needs any help feeding the dogs?"

Any excuse to play with the three massive dogs that the family had accumulated over the years was always welcome by any of the Malfoy children. Indeed the adults in the family were often the same way. Dorie and Cissy ran excitedly into the house through the familiar kitchen door Hermione entered her very first morning at the manor years earlier.

"Are you nervous about Ryan leaving?" Draco asked. "You remember how Luna was last year when Xeno left for his first year. I worried for a short time that she would be rushing off to Hogwarts to bring him home before the year was over."

"I think I am all right," she answered. "I just hope that the other students are kind to him."

"You know, Hermione, as much as we both _hate_ the term, Ryan's year and Xeno's year both have lots of "Umbridge Babies"."

Hermione stiffened at the mention of the term. She was aware of the fact that the babies conceived during the short time period that the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies was open were Ryan and Xeno's age. It was a part of their nation's past that no one talked about openly. A shameful secret that many wished they could sweep under the rug. Unfortunately, there were many families, including the Malfoy family, that were directly affected by the Umbridge Home.

"I was concerned about Xeno going to Hogwarts last year. Technically, he is one of them. He is definitely the best case scenario. Very, _very_ few of the biological parents of those poor kids married," Draco continued.

"Ryan isn't one."

"No, he's not, but he doesn't look anything like the Malfoy family. You know there have been rumors and gossip about him his entire life. Despite how obvious it is to everyone who sees them together that Father loves Ryan dearly, it's not escaped anyone's notice that he's not biologically a Malfoy."

"This is all old news, Draco." She didn't understand where he was going, but she wished he'd hurry up and get there.

"Headmaster Sprout takes any threats of bullying very seriously. I won't deny that I _like_ a Hufflepuff as Headmaster. She has been very protective of all of her students. Last year when the first hint of bullying towards an "Umbridge Baby" came to her attention, she nipped it in the bud. Unlike Headmasters in the past, she doesn't ignore the bad behavior.

"Xeno told me a few incidents early in the year with some of the first years. Professor Sprout took care of it swiftly and let the entire school know that there was no reason to shame or attack innocent children. Whether you like it or not, Ryan is _probably_ going to be clumped together with the other children who don't look anything like their fathers."

"Yes, I'll admit I've been a little nervous about how he would be treated."

Draco reached across the table to squeeze her free hand.

"He will be fine. Pomona will make certain of it. She is very protective of her students."

Hermione and Draco continued their companionable silence as they completed breakfast. Before Hermione could finish eating her eggs with the one hand that wasn't wrapped around her baby, the morning owl post arrived. A small, non-descript brown box the size of a snitch fell into the middle of her plate.

"He's a bit early this year, isn't he?" Draco asked, not even bothering to look at the box on her plate.

"What do you mean?" Hermione pretended she didn't understand what he was asking.

Draco lowered his newspaper to divert his whole attention to Hermione.

"Hermione, don't play dumb with me. It's not convincing."

"Draco…"

"We have lived in this manor together for over eleven years, Hermione. Every year, twice a year, on Ryan's birthday and on September 6th, you receive a small brown box in the owl post."

He snatched the box off of her plate.

"And when you open the box…"

He lifted the lid.

"A large bouquet of fifteen, always _fifteen_ , pink camellias appear."

The bouquet appeared in the center of the table just as Draco promised.

"There's never a note explaining who they are from," Draco continued.

He reached across the table to pluck the single white card from the middle of the flowers.

"All it ever says is a single word. ' _Rescisco'._ Obviously a spell of some sort, but I've never heard of it."

Hermione ripped the card out of his hands. She looked it over before placing it in the pocket of her robes.

"It's a tracking spell," she explained. "Something I created when I was hoping Lucius could rescue me from Antonin's cottage."

Draco continued to stare at her with the penetrating gaze he had only perfected over the years. It used to make her nervous, but she had grown used to the intense manner he stared at others when he was trying to understand their thought processes.

"Why would _he_ be sending you a tracking spell?"

Hermione cleared her throat and handed the card back.

"Tap the card and recite the incantation."

Draco followed her instructions. Immediately the card began to glow and the coordinates 51.5309⁰ N, 0.1233⁰ W appeared on the card.

"If Ryan and I ever need to contact him for any reason, this card will show us the coordinates of whatever item he has charmed. It could be another piece of paper or a piece of jewelry or even his wand."

"Interesting. And the flowers? You are aware of the meaning of pink camellias, aren't you?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed crimson once more. She dropped her eyes to her plate. Yes, she was well aware of what pink camellias signified in the language of flowers. _Longing for you_. Their discussion was cut short by the sudden appearance of Lucius with Xeno and Ryan following close behind.

"We can discuss this further," Draco whispered.

"I don't imagine that will be necessary."

Xeno was walking a few steps ahead of Lucius and Ryan, turning behind him frequently to impart them with some additional knowledge. His dreamy manner was exactly like his mother. Of their three children already born, Xeno looked most like his father and behaved most like his mother. Their entire family loved him dearly for all of his eccentricities. When Xeno would turn back around, Ryan and Lucius would catch each other's eyes and smile. Lucius placed his arm around Ryan's shoulder. It always warmed Hermione's heart when she could see her husband and their son have an entire conversation using nothing but their eyes and the expressions on their face.

"Good morning, 'Mione. Are you feeling well?" Xeno asked after giving Hermione a soft peck on the cheek. He had the most formal and endearing manners of any twelve year old.

"Thank you, Xeno. I'm doing well."

Draco excused himself and his son from the breakfast table. He wanted Xeno to take one last look around his room to make sure he hadn't forgotten to pack something important before he spent the last bit of the morning before they left with his mother. Luna was not sure she would have the energy to make it to Kings Cross Station that year.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Hermione asked her men with a sneaky smile.

Ryan and Lucius both burst out in laughter.

"I love my nephew, but he can be very strange," Ryan answered while he greeted his mother and little brother with a kiss each. "I'm not sure what he found down at the pond or what a dabberblimp is. Last week he swore that he found an infestation of wrackspurts in the attic."

"Xeno simply has an active imagination," Lucius said. He loved his grandson with a passion and didn't like it when others teased him too roughly. "Perhaps one day he will discover some new, interesting species of animal that will prove beneficial to our world."

Lucius leaned down to kiss his wife and baby son in much the same manner Ryan just had. Artie reached his arms out towards his father. Without hesitation or a second thought, Lucius took him from his mother's grasp.

"Are you fully packed, Ryan?" Hermione asked. "We can send you anything you forget in the owl post, but it'll be much easier on the owls if you can make sure they are in your trunk first."

"I think so," Ryan answered. He sat down next to Hermione at the table.

"Are you excited about your first year?" She asked when she noticed that he was retreating into his serious thoughts. Sometimes her eleven year old son could be a bit intense when his mind was fixated on something.

"I guess."

Ryan wasn't convincing either of his parents.

"Is there something bothering you, son?" asked Lucius. "You were more excited yesterday. Are nerves getting to you?"

"I guess so."

He didn't want to continue the conversation but his parents knew him well enough to know when he had something grave on his mind. Hermione put an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer to her in an embrace.

"What's bothering you, Ryan? Is there something your father and I can help you with?"

"I guess I'm nervous about what House I am going to be sorted into."

Hermione met Lucius' eyes over their son's head. Both tried to suppress the smiles that threatened to cross their countenances. This was perhaps the most common fear that any first year attending Hogwarts had.

"I wouldn't mind being in Slytherin like you, Dad or in Gryffindor like you, Mum. Ravenclaw would be all right. I'd get to be in the same House as Xeno. But what if I get sorted into Hufflepuff?"

They both almost lost their composure trying to keep their laughter in. Neither of them wanted their son to think that his concerns were invalid or ridiculous, but they both thought his concerns about the House of Helga Hufflepuff were funny.

"The Weasleys say that it's a House full of duffers!"

Lucius forced down his laughter to put on a stern, serious face.

"Ryan, you were named after a Hufflepuff…"

"Yeah, Kingsley's told me about him before." The boy wasn't convinced by that argument.

"Then you know what a brave man he was. Without Ryan's assistance, your mother would have been captured by the enemy during the last war. We owe him a great deal. He fought bravely at the Battle of Azkaban. There is no shame in being a Hufflepuff. Your mother and I will be proud of you regardless of what House you are in."

"Even if I'm a Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, son, even if you are a Hufflepuff."

They _did_ laugh at that. Hermione sent Ryan off into the manor to double check that he had packed everything. Lucius sat down in his vacated seat with an exuberant Artie waving his chubby arms in his father's face.

"What House do you think he will be in?" Lucius asked.

"Ravenclaw," they both answered together with a chuckle.

Lucius leaned over in his seat to kiss his wife on the cheek.

"I have something I need to tell you," she announced. "It looks like we are going to have another baby."

The smile he had on his face was immediately wiped off. He stared across the table with a scowl.

"Sometimes I think my life would have been easier if I just walked away in Inverness and let them catch you."

Hermione was offended for half a second before she saw the smirk cross her husband's face. She swatted him on the arm before joining him in the laughter.

" _Easier_ , yes, but not nearly as happy."

"No," he agreed. "Not nearly as happy. That is wonderful news, my darling. I have been suspecting for a few days now."

He winked in her direction.

"I'm glad you are pleased."

"Why would I not be, Hermione? Children are a blessing."

* * *

Platform 9 ¾ was as busy as it ever was on September 1st. Children of all ages ran up and down the busy platform searching for their friends and hunting for their lost pets. Draco entered the magical platform first with his hand firmly wrapped around Pandora's. He never trusted his eldest daughter for a moment alone. She had the tendency to get in a trouble if not supervised closely. It was no secret that in four years when she entered her first year, she'd be sorted into Slytherin as swiftly as her father had been. A bulky, slow-moving Luna followed behind with little Narcissa. Xeno pushed his trolley through the barrier like an old pro.

Ryan watched his nephew disappear behind the barrier with wide eyes. Determined that he would not embarrass himself, he took off at a run. His parents were just seconds behind him. Sometimes Ryan could act much older than his eleven years, his mother observed for the millionth time in his short life. He was overly confident at times in his abilities. Once he pushed his trolley over to the attendants loading the baggage section of the train, he walked nervously back to his parents and his young age became apparent once more.

"You are going to have a wonderful time, Ryan," Hermione promised. She pulled her son into her arms and began to cry. The damn pregnancy hormones were making what was already going to be an emotional experience even more so.

"Mum, stop!" Ryan begged when she started kissing both of his reddened cheeks. "People are watching!"

Hermione reluctantly released her self-conscious son. She couldn't remember ever being that uncomfortable with physical affection from her own parents, but then again, she'd never been an eleven year old boy. Lucius stood in front of Ryan to extend his hand in a formal handshake. Ryan seemed relieved by the stoic gesture. He grabbed hold of his father's hand. Lucius immediately pulled the young boy into his arms for a big bear hug and to plant at least three large kisses on Ryan's head. Ryan struggled against the much stronger older wizard while both of his parents laughed.

"Dad, stop!" he shrieked. Lucius released him. "People are watching."

"Nonsense, Ryan," Lucius replied. "And even if they were, witches like sensitive men confident enough to show their affection in public."

Hermione sniggered to herself as Lucius began to explain the benefits of letting eligible females know how thoughtful and considerate a young wizard is. During his mini-lecture Hermione felt an odd sensation as if someone were watching her. Unfortunately considering her role in the last war and her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, she often experienced that feeling in public. She turned around in the direction she thought it was coming from.

In a darkened corner of the platform half-hidden in the shadows stood Antonin Dolohov. Hermione would've recognized him anywhere. He was eleven years older, just as she was, and had grown in a full beard that was beginning to be streaked a bit with grey, but even at the distance she could see his dark brown intense eyes. She should've known that even forced exile wouldn't keep the man from seeing his only child leave for his first year at Hogwarts. Hermione smiled at the wizard. He smiled in return.

The signal indicating that all students needed to be aboard for the imminent departure of the train sounded. Ryan allowed both of his parents to hug him one final time before he ran off towards the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Lucius placed his arm around Hermione's shoulder for an extra bit of support as they watched their child head off towards his first year at school. Hermione looked back behind her to the darkened corner as the train exited the station but found it to be empty. A quick survey of the platform showed no sign of Antonin.

"Let us go home, my darling," Lucius suggested.

She allowed her husband to lead her out of the train station. The Christmas holidays could not come soon enough for her.

* * *

 _Enjoyed this? Check out the second completed story in this Universe._ _ **The Dark Mage's Captive**_ _is the alternate retelling of this story. Instead of being saved in Inverness by Lucius in the first chapter, Hermione is captured by Antonin. The stories are vastly different. The first chapters may start off exactly the same way, but they are not the same. (Most readers have told me that actually prefer that story to this one and to be honest, I kind of do too.) : )_


End file.
